"Le roi est mort! Vive la reine!" cried Manuel gaily.
"I can't be said to have had a very peaceful reign. Wish you better luck, ma'am." He let his eyes rest drolly on the invalid for a moment. "And I hope when you take a prince consort to share the throne he'll meet all expectations--which I'm sure he will."
Dick shook hands with the bright-eyed flushing girl.
She laughed in the midst of her blushes. "Gracias, señor! I'll save your good wishes till they are needed."
"Adios, Don Manuel. See you to-morrow if you're up to it. I expect you've had enough excitement for one day."
"I'll let you know then whether I can accept your gift, Mr. Gordon," Valencia told him.
"That's all settled," he assured her as he left.
* * * * * It was in the evening that he saw her again. Dick had stopped in the hall on the way to his room to examine a .303 Savage carbine he found propped against the wall. He had picked the weapon up when a voice above hailed him. He looked up. Valencia was leaning across the balustrade of the stairway.
"I want to talk with you, Mr. Gordon."
"Same here," he answered promptly. "I mean I want to talk with you. Let's take a walk."
"No. You're not up to a walk. We'll drive. My rig is outside."
Ten minutes later they were flying over the hard roads packed with rubble from decomposed sandstone. Neither of them spoke for some time. He was busy with the reins, and she was content to lean back and watch him. To her there was something very attractive about the set of his well-modeled head upon the broad shoulders. He had just been shaved, and the scent of the soap wafted to her a pleasant sense of intimacy with his masculinity. She could see the line above which the tiny white hairs grew thick on the bronzed cheeks. A strange delight stirred in her maiden heart, a joy in his physical well-being that longed for closer contact.
None of this reached the surface when she spoke at last.
"I can't let things go the way you have arranged them, Mr. Gordon. It isn't fair. After the way I and my people have treated you I can't be the object of such unlimited generosity at your hands."
"Justice," he suggested by way of substitution.
"No, generosity," she insisted. "Why should you be forced to give way to me? What have I done any more than you to earn all this?"
"Now you know we've all agreed----"
"Agreed!" she interrupted sharply. "We've taken it for granted that I had some sort of divine right. When I look into it I see that's silly. We're living in America, not in Spain of the seventeenth century. I've no right except what the law gives me."