“Ah, de Americana!” she exclaimed, her eyes yet blazing from excitement, poising herself directly in front of her silent watcher.  “Senorita, it ees not de same as yours—­dey like you, si; but dey lofe Mercedes.”

Miss Norvell smiled gently, her gaze on the other’s flushed, childish face, and extended her hand.

“There seems ample room for both of us,” she replied, pleasantly, “yet your dancing is truly wonderful.  It is an art, and you must let me thank you.”

It is difficult to understand why, but the untamed, passionate girl, stung in some mysterious manner by these quietly spoken words of appreciation, instantly drew her slight form erect.

“You nevar forget you not one of us, do you?” she questioned in sudden bitterness of spirit.  “Pah! maybe you tink I care what you like.  I dance because I lofe to; because it sets my blood on fire.  I no care for all your airs of fine lady.”

“I exceedingly regret you should feel so.  I certainly spoke in kindness and appreciation.  Would you permit me to pass?”

The angry young Mexican swept back her scarlet skirts as though in disdain, her white shoulders uplifted.  She did not know why she felt thus vindictive; to save her soul she could not have told the reason, yet deep down within her passionate heart there existed a hatred for this white, silent American, whose slightest word sounded to her like rebuke.  She stood there still, watching suspiciously, smouldering dislike burning in her black eyes, when Winston suddenly stepped from the concealing shadows with a word of unexpected greeting.  She noticed the sudden flush sweep into Miss Norvell’s cheek, the quick uplifting of her eyes, the almost instant drooping again of veiling lashes, and, quickly comprehending it all, stepped promptly forward just far enough to obtain a clear view of the young man’s face.  The next moment the two had vanished into the night without.  Mercedes laughed unpleasantly to herself, her white teeth gleaming.

“Ah, Merciful Mother! so my ver’ fine lady has found herself a lofer here already. Sapristi, an’ he is well worth lookin’ at!  I vill ask of de stage manager his name.”

Outside, beneath the faint glimmer of the stars, Winston offered his arm, and Miss Norvell accepted it silently.  It was no more than a short stroll to the hotel, and the street at that particular hour was sufficiently deserted, so the young man rather keenly felt the evident constraint of his companion.  It impressed him as unnatural, and he felt inclined to attribute her state of mind to the unpleasant scene he had just beheld.

“Senorita Mercedes does not appear very kindly disposed toward you,” he ventured.  “Have you quarrelled already?”

“You refer to the Mexican dancer?” she questioned, glancing aside at him curiously.  “Really, I did not remember having heard the girl’s name mentioned before.  Do you know her?”