"Señor Gordon is a joke."
He laughed weakly. "Am I? I'll bet I am, the fool way I acted."
"I mean a—what you call—a joker," she corrected.
"But ain't I your enemy, my little good Samaritan? Isn't that what all your people are saying?"
"I not care what they say."
"If I'm not your enemy, what am I?"
She made a great pretense of filling the ewer with water and gathering up the soiled towels.
"How about that, niña?" he persisted, turning toward her on the pillow with his unshaven face in his hand, a gentle quizzical smile in his eyes.
"I'm your ... servant, señor," she flamed, after the embarrassment of silence had grown too great.
"No, no! Nothing like that. What do you say? Will you take me for a friend, even though I'm an enemy to the whole valley?"