One night, well into the summer, he came upon her, unexpectedly, standing in front of a cheap restaurant, looking at the edibles displayed in the window. She was not veiled, her face was pale and haggard, and there was no mistaking the expression in her eyes as she finally turned away. "My friend," said Mr. Britton, laying his hand gently on her shoulder, "are you hungry?" She shrank from him with a start till a glance in his face reassured her, and she answered, with an expressive gesture,-- "Yes, Senor; I have had nothing to eat to-day, and but little yesterday." "This is no fit place; come with me," Mr. Britton replied, leading the way two or three blocks down the street, to a first-class restaurant. He conducted her through the ladies' entrance into a private box, where he ordered a substantial dinner for two. "Senor," she protested, as the waiter left the box, "I have no money, no way to repay you for this, you understand?" "I understand," he answered, quickly; "I want no return for this. Miss Underwood wished me to find you, and help you, if I could." "Yes, I know; you are the Senorita's friend." "And your friend also, if I can help you." "You saved his life that night, Senor; I do not forget," the woman said, with peculiar emphasis. "Yes, I undoubtedly saved the scoundrel from a summary vengeance; possibly I might not have done it, had I known what the alternative would be. Where is that man now?" he asked, with sudden directness. "I do not know, Senor; he tells me nothing, but I have heard he went south some time ago." The entrance of the waiter with their orders put a temporary stop to conversation. The woman ate silently, regarding Mr. Britton from time to time with an expression of childlike wonder. When her hunger was appeased, and she seemed inclined to talk, he said,-- "Tell me something of yourself. When and where did you marry that man?" "We were married in Mexico, seven years ago." "Your home was in Mexico?" "No, Senor, my father owned a big cattle ranch in Texas. Senor Walcott, as you call him here, worked for him. He wanted to marry me, but my father opposed the marriage. We lived close to the line, so we went across one day and were married. My father was very angry, but I was his only child, and by and by he forgave and took us back." "Do I understand you that Walcott is not this man's real name?" Mr. Britton interposed. "His name is Jose Martinez, Senor." "But is he not a half-breed? I have understood his father was an Englishman." "His father was an Englishman, but no one ever knew who he was, you understand, Senor? Afterwards his mother married Pablo Martinez, and her child took his name. That was why my father opposed our marriage." "I understand," said Mr. Britton; "but he claims heavy cattle interests in the South; how did he come by them?"