e was on her feet also.

"My husband--why, Gregory,--don't you know--haven't you heard? I have no
husband!"

"You--have--no--husband?"

"No. I'm a widow. I've just come out of mourning. George has been dead
more than a year."

Carker seemed turned to stone. She was standing squarely in front of
him, and she placed both her hands on his arms, looking up into his
eyes.

"I supposed you knew," she murmured. "He left me in comfortable
circumstances, and there is now no reason why I should worry about the
future. If your father is unrelenting, it can make but little difference
to us. Even though we may not agree about socialism, I'll let you have
your way. Everything has come out right at last, Greg. Isn't it
splendid!"

Before he realized her intention, one of her arms slipped round his
neck.

At that moment Juanita Garcia passed the entrance to that little nook
and saw them. She did not pause, but, pale-faced and wide-eyed, hurried
silently on.

CHAPTER XXIV.

ON THE CLIFF.

During the remainder of the day Juanita avoided Greg Carker.

Evening came. Within the house the boys were singing the old college
songs to the accompaniment of a piano as Juanita stole away alone and
listened a long time from a corner of the veranda. Tears dimmed her
eyes, and she whispered soft words to herself.

"I know I'm a veree fooleesh girl," she said. "I cannot help eet. Eet
ees not to be that he should care for me."

Her heart throbbed with bitter disappointment. She left the house behind
and wandered away through the dusky June night. Crossing the road and
the fields, she came at last to Ripple Lake, on the edge of which she
lingered while the moon crept up in the east.

"I ought to return," she murmured. "If they mees me, they will become
alarmed. But I cannot go back there yet--I cannot go back!"

Her restless spirit led her round the shore of the lake until she
finally found herself on a bluff that rose from the water's edge. The
moon was now behind her back. At the brink of the bluff she peered over
into the shadow below.

A footstep startled her.

With a smothered cry, she turned and found herself face to face
with--Jose Murillo.

"It is you, Juanita!" he exclaimed, in Spanish. "All day I have waited
and watched for the opportunity to speak with you!"

"Senyor Murillo, why did you come here? You promised----"

"What is a man's promise to a gringo!" he retorted. "Did you think they
could frighten Jose