She flung the fragments from her, and the writing was fine and feminine in every curve--her own, if you wish to know; the note she had sent, twenty-four hours before, to her blue-eyed one whom she had decided to forgive.
"Santa Maria!" she gasped, and gritted her teeth afterwards.

"This, then, is what he meant--that insolent one! 'After the fiesta will I send the answer'-- so he told that simpering maid who took my letter and the rose.

And the answer, then, is my rose and my letter returned, and no word else.

Madre de Dios! That he should flout me thus! Now will I tell Jose to kill him--and kill him quickly.

For that blue-eyed gringo I hate!" Then she flung herself across her bed and wept.
Let the tender-hearted be reassured.