The effrontery of this lean, stalwart young American—if effrontery it was, and no other name seemed to define it—surprised another dash of roses into the olive.
"The way to make up your quarrel with me is to make up those with my friends," she answered.
"All right. Suits me. I'll call those deputies off and send them home. Pablo and Sebastian will never go to the pen on my evidence. They're in the clear so far as I'm concerned."
She gave him both her hands. "Thank you. Thank you. I'm so glad."
The tears rose to her eyes. She bit her lip, turned and left the room.
He called after her:
"Please don't forget my tin box."
"I'll remember your precious box," she called back with a pretense of scorn.
He laughed to himself softly. There was sunshine in his eyes.
She had resolved to leave him to Mrs. Corbett in future, but within the hour she was back.