her teeth and hair.

She preferred their breathless, "Well played, partner!" to the
elaborate, "I saw the Senorita at mass this morning. As she raised her
eyes to Heaven--the angels grew jealous."

When the mother told Inez that Colonel Vega had written, proposing on
his return to pay his addresses to her, the girl was in genuine
distress. She protested earnestly.

In thirty years Senora Rojas unconsciously had assimilated the
thoughts, the habits, the attitude of mind of the women of her adopted
country, and, when Inez had finished her protest, her mother, seeing
the consequence from her own point of view, was greatly disturbed. "It
is most unfortunate," she said. "Pino is selfish; when he learns you
will not listen to him he will be very angry and he will be less eager
to help your father. He will think only of himself. If you only could
have cared----"

"Pino could not be so cruel," said the girl. But she spoke as though
she were arguing against her own conviction. "He cannot be so vain--so
spoiled," she protested, "that because one woman fails to fall on her
knees to him, he must punish her."

The talk between the mother and daughter had taken place a week before
Colonel Vega's arrival from Paris. On the day his steamer was due,
Senora Rojas again spoke to Inez.

"After mass this morning," she said, "I consulted Father Paul about
Pino. He hopes it will be possible for you not to give him a direct
answer. He says Pino will be leaving us almost at once. He is to land
north of Porto Cabello, and our people are to join him there. Father
Paul thinks," the Senora hesitated, and then went on hastily, "you
might let him go in ignorance. You might ask for time to consider. You
might even tell him----"

The girl's cheeks flushed crimson and the tears came to her eyes. The
mother looked away. After an instant's silence she exclaimed bitterly:
"It is only a lie to a man who has lied to many women! I think of
nothing," she declared, "but that it would keep him true to your
father. What else matters!" she broke forth, "I would lie, cheat,
steal," she cried, "if I could save your father one moment's
suffering."

The girl took the hand of the elder woman and pressed it to her cheek.
"I know," she whispered, "I know."

There was a moment's silence. "If it were anything else!" protested
the girl. "If I could change places with father I would run to do
it--you know that--but this"--with a gesture of repugnance the girl
th