“I am sorry,” said Virginia, smiling a little, “if on my account . . .”

“You were just going to get cleaned up, weren’t you?” asked Florrie contritely.  “You look as hot and dusty as anything.  My, what pretty hair you have; I’ll bet it comes down to your waist, doesn’t it?  You ought to see mine when I take it down; it’s like the pictures of the bush-whackers . . . you know what I mean, from South Africa or somewhere, you know . . . only, of course, mine’s a prettier color.  Sometime I’ll come and comb yours for you, when you’re tired out from curing sick Indians.  But now,” and she jumped to her feet, “I’ll go out on the porch while you get dressed and then you come out, will you?  It’s cool there under the awning, and I’ll have Mr. Struve bring us out some cold lemonade.  But first, you do forgive me, don’t you?”

Virginia’s prompt assurance was incomplete when Florrie flitted out, banging the door after her, headed toward the lounging-chairs on the veranda.

“You pretty thing!” exclaimed Miss Florrie as Virginia joined her as coolly and femininely dressed, if not quite as fluffily, as the banker’s daughter.  “Oh, but you are quite the most stunning creature that ever came into San Juan!  Oh, I know all about myself; don’t you suppose I’ve stood in front of a glass by the long hours . . . wishing it was a wishing-glass all the time and that I could turn a pug-nose into a Grecian.  I’m pretty; you’re simply beautiful!”

“Look here, my dear,” laughed Virginia, taking the chair which Florrie had drawn close up to her own in the shade against the adobe wall, “you have already made amends.  It isn’t necessary to . . .”

“I haven’t half finished,” cried Florrie emphatically.  “You see it’s a way of mine to do things just by halves and quit there.  But to-day it is different; to-day I am going to square myself.  That’s one reason why I treated you so cattishly last night; because you were so maddeningly good to look upon.  Through a man’s eyes, you know; and that’s about all that counts anyway, isn’t it?  And the other reason was that you came in with Roddy and he looked so contented. . . .  Do you wonder that I am just wild about him?  Isn’t he a perfect dear?”

Florrie’s utter frankness disconcerted Virginia.  The confession of “wildness” about San Juan’s sheriff, followed by the asseveration of his perfect dearness was made in bright frankness, Florrie’s voice lowered no whit though Julius Struve at the moment was coming down the veranda bearing a tray and glasses.  Virginia was not without gratitude that Struve lingered a moment and bantered with Florrie; when he departed she sought to switch the talk in another direction.  But Florrie, sipping her tall glass and setting it aside, was before her.

“You see it was double-barrelled jealousy; so I did rather well not to fly at you and tear your eyes out, didn’t I?  Just because you and he came in together . . . as if every time a man and girl walk down the street together it means that they are going to get married!  But you see, Roddy and I have known each other ever since before I can remember, and I have asked myself a million times if some day we are going to be Mr. and Mrs. Roderick Norton . . . and there are times when I think we are!”