“Referring, I presume, to my father?” she demanded haughtily.
“In a general way, but eliminating the most objectionable points of the king fellow.”
“You’re very kind.” She interrupted her scorn to ask him where he meant her to sleep.
He glanced over the room. “This might do right here, if we had that bed aired.”
“Do you expect to put me in irons?”
“Not right away. Colonel, I’ll ask you to go to the office and notify me as soon as Señor O’Halloran arrives.” He waited till the colonel had gone before adding: “I’m going to leave this boy with you, señorita, for a while. He’ll explain some things to you that I can’t. In about an hour I’ll be back, perhaps sooner. So long, Curly. Tell the lady your secret.” And with that Bucky was out of the room.
“Your secret, child! What does he mean?”
The flame of color that swept into the cheeks of Frances, the appeal in the shamed eyes, held Carmencita’s surprised gaze. Then coolly it traveled over the girl and came back to her burning face.
“So that’s it, is it?”
But the scorn in her voice was too much for Frances. She had been judged and condemned in that cool stare, and all the woman in her protested at its injustice.