“We mistook a romance, a sort of midsummer, moving-picture romance,” Dean went on, “for a solid and lasting affection. And it is, of course,” he was very clear and definite about it but his expression was rather bleak, “extremely fortunate that we became aware of our mistake when we did.” Again the doctor nodded. “I wonder if Ginger’s father and mother were not assailed by doubts of that sort,” he mused. “Far apart as the poles, they were--race, type, creed, training--and yet that marriage was a success; an ardent success. Of course, Ginger’s mother, Rosalía Valdés--and she was more beautiful than Ginger, I believe--died when the girl was a baby. I’ve often asked myself if a marriage of that sort can stand the slow procession of years, the humdrum cares, the fading--” “I think not,” Dean Wolcott cut in. “Marriage,” he stated with young sapience, “any marriage, where blood and breeding and background are the same, presents _sufficient_ difficulties of adjustment. It was undoubtedly a most fortunate termination.” He had pulled off his hat, and now a brisk wind traveled up from the sea and mussed the shining precision of his fine, fair hair, as a sudden confusion marred the precision of his careful speech. “Doctor, I have--I needn’t say that I have the highest--that I admire and shall always admire her beauty and charm--and--and courage and ability--and I hope you won’t misunderstand my motives, my feelings--” he got very warmly flushed and young looking and his gaze besought his friend for credence. “I must see Ginger and I must see Ojeda, simply as a matter of decent self-justification. It is intolerable for me to leave any place, any persons, with such a contemptible impression.” “I can get your angle on it, Dean,” said the doctor, gravely, “but aren’t you overemphasizing--exaggerating--the whole affair? After all, why should you have been able to ride like a ‘buckeroo’--a city man, an easterner? (Though a fellow from San Francisco or Los Angeles would have been in the same boat.) And besides, you were in no shape to stand such exertion; it was mad folly to attempt it. I blame myself bitterly for not having warned you against that sort of thing, but I never imagined----” Again the young man interrupted him heedlessly. “Yes, of course, the whole thing was absurd! If my sense of humor hadn’t been left on the other side, if I had made determined comedy of myself for them, or if I’d had sense enough to refuse to ride”--but his flush deepened as he remembered why and how he had capitulated--“it need never have happened. But it did happen, Doctor. I did make a sickening spectacle of myself in the eyes of those people. I failed utterly according to their standards, and--granted that their standards are immature and crude ones--the fact is intolerable to me. That’s why I’ve learned to ride, that’s why I wanted Snort; that’s why I must go once to Dos Pozos for a day, before I--before I put a period to that episode.”