necessary in this case," he assured her.

"You're quite sure of that, I suppose," she suggested with a touch of
ironic mockery.

"I haven't read any announcement in the paper," he admitted.

"It is always safe to wait for that."

"Which is another way of saying that it is none of my business. But then
you see it is." He offered no explanation of this statement, nor did he
give her time to protest. "Now about that wedding present, Miss Valdes.
It's in a tin box I had in the cabin before the fire. Can you tell me
whether it was saved? My recollection is that I had it at the time the
rafter put me to sleep. But of course I don't remember anything more
till I found myself in bed here."

"A tin box? Yes; you had it in your hands when Manuel brought you out.
They could hardly pry your fingers from it."

"Would you mind having that box brought to me, Miss Valdes? I want to be
sure the present hasn't been injured by fire."

"Of course not. I don't just know where it is, but it must be somewhere
about the place."

She was stepping toward the door, with that fine reaching grace of a
fawn that distinguished her, when his voice stopped her. She stopped,
delicate head poised and half turned, apparently waiting for further
directions.

"Not just this minute, please. I've been lying here all day, with nobody
but Steve. Finally he got so restless I had to turn him out to pasture.
It wouldn't be right hospitable to send you away so soon. That box can
wait till you have had all of me you can stand. What I need is good
nursing, and I need it awful bad," he explained plaintively.

"Has Mrs. Corbett been neglecting you?"

"Mrs. Corbett--no!" he shouted with a spirit indomitable, but a voice
still weak. "She's on earth merely to cook me chicken broth and custard.
It's you that's been neglecting me."

The gleam of a strange fire was in her dark, bright eyes; in her cheeks
the soft glow of beating color.

"And _my_ business on earth is to fight you, is it not? But I can't do
that till you are on your feet again, sir."

He gave her back her debonair smile.

"I'm not so sure of that. Women fight with the weapons of their sex--and
often win, I'm told."

"You mean, perhaps, tears and appeals for pity. They are weapons I
cannot use, sir. I had liefer lose."

"I dare say there are other weapons in your arsenal. I know you're too
game to use those you've named."

"What others?" she asked quietly.

He let his eyes rest on her,