"Very seldom. _Very_ seldom!" Mrs. Lorimer hotly proclaimed her faith in her government's efficiency. "I haven't lost three letters in forty years. No. He's jilted you, Honor. That's the ugly, shameful truth, and you're too blind to see it. If you knew the things Carter told his mother----" "I don't want to know them, Muzzie." "Of course you don't. That's just it! Blind! Blind and stubborn,--determined to wreck and ruin your whole life. And I must stand by, helpless, and see you do it. And the _danger_ of the thing! With Diaz out of the country it's in the hands of the brigands. You'll be murdered ... or worse! Well--I know whose head your blood will be on. Not mine, thank Heaven!" There was very little that day, Mildred Lorimer felt, that she could thank Heaven for. It was not using her well. "You know that Stepper will give me letters and telegraph ahead to the train people," said Honor. "And you mustn't believe all the hysterical tales in the newspapers, Muzzie dear. Here's Stepper now." Stephen Lorimer was turning the car in at the driveway and a moment later he came into the house. He looked very tired but he smiled at his stepdaughter. "You're in luck, Top Step! I've just come from the Mexican Consulate. Met some corking people there, Mexicans, starting home to-morrow. They'll be with you until the last day of your trip! Mother and father and daughter,--Menendez is the name. Fascinating creatures. I've got your reservations, in the same car with them! Mildred," he turned to his wife, still speaking cheerily but begging for absolution with his tired eyes, "Senora Menendez--Menendez y Garcia is the whole name--sent her compliments and said to tell you she would 'guard your daughter as her own.' Doesn't that make you feel better about it?" "She can defend her from bandits, I suppose?" "My dear, there will be Senor Menendez, and they tell me the tales of violence are largely newspaper stuff,--as I've told you repeatedly. They will not only look after Honor all the way but they will telegraph to friends to meet her at Cordoba and drive her out to the Kings' _rancho_--I explained that she wished to surprise her friends. I don't mind telling you now that I should have gone with her myself if these people hadn't turned up." "Stepper, dear!" "And I'll go now, T. S., if you like." "No, Stepper. I'd rather go alone, really--as long as I'm going to be so well looked after, and Muzzie needn't worry." "'Needn't worry!'" said Mildred Lorimer, lifting her hands and letting them fall into her lap. "Honestly, Muzzie, you needn't. If you do, it's because you let yourself. You must know that I'll be safe with these people." "Your bodily safety isn't all," her mother, driven from that corner, veered swiftly. "The thing itself is the worst. The _idea_ of it--when I think--after all that was in the paper, and every one talking about it and pitying you--_pitying_ you, Honor!"