oing?" he demanded, brusquely.

The rich colour warmed her cheeks to a rose-red that matched the sunset.

"I was going--to see if you--if you wanted anything"--she stammered,
almost humbly.

"You know I do not"--he said--"You can spare yourself the trouble."

She drew herself up with a slight air of offence.

"If you want nothing why do you come down into the valley?" she asked.
"You say you hate the Plaza!"

"I do!" and he spoke almost vindictively--"But, at the moment, there's
some one there I want to see."

Her black eyes opened inquisitively.

"A man?"

"No. Strange to say, a woman."

A sudden light flashed on her mind.

"I know!" she exclaimed--"But you will not see her! She has gone!"

"What do you mean?" he asked, impatiently--"What do you know?"

"Oh, I know nothing!" and there was a sobbing note of pathos in her
voice--"But I feel HERE!"--and she pressed her hands against her
bosom--"something tells me that you have seen HER--the little wonderful
white woman, sweetly perfumed like a rose,--with her silks and jewels
and her fairy car!--and her golden hair... ah!--you said you hated a
woman with golden hair! Is that the woman you hate?"

He stood looking at her with an amused, half scornful expression.

"Hate is too strong a word"--he answered--"She isn't worth hating!"

Her brows contracted in a frown.

"I do not believe THAT!"--she said--"You are not speaking truly. More
likely it is, I think, you love her!"

He caught her roughly by the arm.

"Stop that!" he exclaimed, angrily--"You are foolish and insolent!
Whether I love or hate anybody or anything is no affair of yours! How
dare you speak to me as if it were!"

She shrank away from him. Her lips quivered, and tears welled through
her lashes.

"Forgive me! ... oh, forgive!" she murmured, pleadingly--"I am
sorry!..."

"So you ought to be!" he retorted--"You--Manella--imagine yourself in
love with me ... yes, you do!--and you cannot leave me alone! No
amorous man ever cadged round for love as much or as shamelessly as an
amorous woman! Then you see another woman on the scene, and though
she's nothing but a stray visitor at the Plaza where you help wash up
the plates and dishes, you suddenly conceive a lot of romantic foolery
in your head and imagine me to be mysteriously connected with her! Oh,
for God's sake don't cry! It's the most awful bore! There's nothing to
cry for. You've set me up like a sort of doll in a shrine and you wan