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Page 36
Her clasped hands tightened, she put her head of fluffy hair to one
side and looked at Virginia with such frank wonder in her eyes that
Virginia colored under them.
"And," ran on Florrie, forestalling a possible interruption, "I was
ready to poke fun at you last night just for being something capable
and . . . and splendid. There was my jealousy again, I suppose. You
ought to have heard papa on that score; 'Look here, my fine miss; if
you could just be something worth while in the world, if you could do
as much good in all of your silly life as Virginia Page does every day
of hers,' . . . and so forth until he was ready to burst and mama was
ready to cry, and I was ready to bite him!" She trilled off in a burst
of laughter which was eloquent of the fact that Florence Engle, be her
faults what they might, was not the one to hold a grudge.
"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!"
"You have a long time ahead of you yet, haven't you, Florence, before
you have to answer a question like that?" asked Virginia amusedly.
"Because I am so young?" cried Florrie. "Oh, I don't know; girls marry
young here. Now there is Tita . . . she is our cook's sister . . . she
has two babies already and she is only four months older than I am.
And . . . Look, Virgie; there is the most terrible creature in the
world. It is Kid Rickard; he killed the Las Palmas man, you know. I
am not going even to look at him; I hate him worse that Caleb
Patten . . . and that's like saying I hate strychnine worse than
arsenic, isn't it? But who in the name of all that is wonderful is the
man with him? Isn't he the handsome thing? I never saw him before.
He is from the outside, Virgie; you can tell by the fashionable cut of
his clothes and by the way he walks and . . . Isn't he distinguished!"
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