LOST! TWO HASTY TEMPERS "One more throw, and then no more until the contest," Jack announced placatingly, when he spied a lone bull standing just before a thicket of chaparral and staring at them with stupid resentment that his siesta had been disturbed.

"A kiss for luck, little one!" Riata coiled in his hand, Jack rode closer and leaned to the girl, his eyes and his voice caressing, his lips quivering for the kiss he craved.
It had come to kisses long before then, and to half promises, when her mood was tender, that she would marry her blue-eyed one--sometime.
Just now her mood was not tender.

Jack was not to blame, nor was the pretty Senora Simpson, although Mrs.Jerry was quite innocently and unconsciously the cause.

Mrs.Jerry had a headache, that day, and a fit of the blues; and from the first moment when Teresita had entered the cabin she had felt a lack of warmth in the pretty senora's manner that had piqued her, who had lived upon adoration all her life.

Mrs.Jerry had even shown a disposition to shirk keeping her promise anent the new way of doing Teresita's hair.
She said that she didn't think she'd go to the fiesta, after all--which was like calmly telling a priest that one does not, after all, feel as if heaven is worth striving for.
Teresita failed to see how the wistfulness was quite submerging the twinkle in Mrs.Jerry's eyes, and if she had seen, she would never have guessed what put it there; nor would she have understood why Mrs.Jerry might shrink from attending that magnificent festival, perhaps the only gringo woman in all the crowd, and a pitifully shabby gringo woman at that.