When invited to share the contents, the general was plainly overjoyed, but he was so enthralled by his companion’s beauty that he could eat but little.

It was a most embarrassing situation.  Longorio kept Alaire for ever upon the defensive, and it sorely taxed her ingenuity to hold the conversation in safe channels.  As the journey proceeded it transpired that the man had made use of his opportunities to learn everything about her, even to her life with Ed. His information was extensive, and his deductions almost uncanny in their correctness.  He told her about Austin’s support of the Rebel cause and her own daily doings at Las Palmas; he intimated that her unhappiness was almost more than he could bear.

This intimate knowledge and sympathy he seemed to regard as a bond that somehow united them.  He was no longer a new acquaintance, but a close and loyal friend whose regard was deathless.

Undoubtedly the man had a way with him.  He impressed people, and his magnetism was potent.  Moreover, he knew the knack of holding what ground he gained.

It was an odd, unreal ride, through the blazing heat of the long afternoon.  Longorio cast off all pretense and openly laid siege to the red-haired woman’s heart—­all without offering her the smallest chance to rebuff him, the slightest ground for open resentment, so respectful and guarded were his advances.  But he was forceful in his way, and the very intensity of his desires made him incapable of discouragement.  So the duel progressed—­ Alaire cool and unyielding, he warm, persistent, and tireless.  He wove about her an influence as difficult to combat as the smothering folds of some flocculent robe or the strands of an invisible web, and no spider was ever more industrious.

When the train arrived at its destination his victim was well-nigh exhausted from the struggle.  He helped her into a coach with the gentlest and gravest courtesy, and not until the vehicle rolled away did Alaire dare to relax.  Through her fatigue she could still hear his soft farewell until the morrow, and realized that she had committed herself to his further assistance.  His palms against hers had been warm, his adoring eyes had caressed her, but she did not care.  All she wished now was to reach her hotel, and then her bed.

After a good night’s rest, however, Alaire was able to smile at yesterday’s adventure.  Longorio did not bulk so large now; even these few hours had greatly diminished his importance, so that he appeared merely as an impulsive foreigner who had allowed a woman to turn his head.  Alaire knew with what admiration even a moderately attractive American woman is greeted in Mexico, and she had no idea that this fellow had experienced anything more than a fleeting infatuation.  Now that she had plainly shown her distaste for his outlaw emotions, and convinced him that they awoke in her no faintest response, she was confident that his frenzy would run its brief course and die.  Meanwhile, it was not contrary to the standards of feminine ethics to take advantage of the impression she had made upon him and with his help push through a fair financial settlement of her loss.