He hoped she would laugh it away, but she only looked at him, her lips parted, a hint of incredulousness in her eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. He was glad now that she had not laughed or taken the word he had spoken lightly. He felt she knew he had not said it in an attempt at silly flirtation. "You spoke of being rescued," she said, smiling again. "Yes, and the villain is yet in the background," he said. "A devilishly handsome villain he is, too." She glanced back over her shoulder. The servant had disappeared. The man in the wicker chair was looking at them, a half smile on his lips. "Surely," she said, "not Mr. Gibson?" "If Mr. Gibson is the gentleman in the chair over there, yes." "And why a villain?" "Well, he whispered something to the servant who was here when you came that caused him to come here and ask me to leave. That was how you rescued me." "It is like a book or a play, isn't it?" "Only in books and plays dreams come true," he told her. "And villains are vanquished." "And what dream do you wish to come true?" "A dream--a rather silly, hopeless, golden sort of dream--a dream of meeting you again." Once more he could have bitten off his tongue. Now she would think him a maudlin flirt. He looked to the ground and saw his dusty, worn shoes. He was afraid to hear her speak, afraid to look up. At last he did, expecting to find her gone. But she was there, looking at him as she had when he told her she was beautiful, the same hint of incredulousness in her eyes. "Don't say you're sorry," she said softly. "I'd like to think you meant it." They were silent. He saw the man in the wicker chair rise, toss aside his cigarette and come toward them, slowly. They waited, without speaking, until he reached their table. His eyes met Gibson's steadily for two tense seconds. Then he saw Gibson turn from him to the girl as if he was not there. "Consuello," Gibson said. She rose. "Reggie," she said, "a friend, Mr.----" "John Gallant," John said, slowly. "Mr. Gallant, Mr. Gibson," she said. They shook hands. "I believe I saw Mr. Gallant several nights ago," Gibson said. John waited, wondering how Gibson would say it. "He was very busily engaged with another gentleman"--he gave a slight emphasis to the "gentleman"--"whose name, I believe, was Rodriguez." "Really! You have met before?" "Come, Consuello," said Gibson, "we must be trotting back to the house. The afternoon will be gone soon." She saw the look in John's eyes before she answered: "Reggie, you must excuse me. I'll be along shortly--with Mr. Gallant." "Very well," Gibson turned leisurely and they watched him walk away. He was only slightly incensed by Gibson's deliberate insult in strolling away without acknowledging, by even so much as a nod of his head, their introduction to each other by Consuello. He felt a tinge of satisfaction, of even vengeance.