She checked him gravely. "Truly, it was just a game--and yet it was not altogether so, either. But here is what I came to say. The strangest thing has happened-not until last night after the opera did I even dream of it, and-even now I cannot believe. Oh, I am so proud!" "More bad news for me, I suppose." "Yes. But such good news for me that I am sure you will be glad." Timidly he reached out and touched a fold of her white dress. She seemed to be slipping from him. "Coming home from the theatre my father told me-oh, the most wonderful thing! He said-but how shall I speak of such a secret?" "Evidently you don't intend to." "I promised very faithfully not to tell, so-he is to be the next President of Panama." "Pres--" Anthony stared at her in frank amazement. "Why, I thought old man Alfarez--" "It seems your country does not like him because he hates Americans-see? This is the work of that Mr. Cortlandt. Think! Is it not wonderful? Now that you know the truth, you must see at once that by no means could I marry to a person like you." "Why not?" "Ohe! Don't you understand? I shall be the finest lady in the Republic. All men will adore me. I will have suitors-not one or two as now, but many. I will be 'the beautiful Senorita Garavel,' for all the great people are beautiful. I shall be proud, also, and I shall not even speak to Yankees any more. My father will be the most famous man of all the Republic-perhaps in the whole world, I don't know." "I don't think it will make any difference with him when he knows who I am." "Then you also are a great man, eh?" She hitched herself about, to face him more squarely. "That is truly interesting. He would scarcely wish a railroad conductor to address the daughter of President Garavel." "Oh, I've been promoted since I was out here last. Anyhow, I guess my dad is pretty nearly as good as anybody in Panama." "He is, then, of blue blood?" "No! Red." "Oh, but a gentleman!" "He is now. He used to be a brakeman." "You appear to be-proud of such a thing! How strange! My father's blood runs back to the conquistadors; even in the earliest books one finds Garavels. They were conquerors, they ruled this country and all these people." "That's something to be proud of, but it isn't everything. High-bred horses run well, but they can't pull. It's the old farm nag that delivers the merchandise. But I'll tackle your father, and I'll promise to vote for him." "You are very fonny." She gazed at him seriously, one tiny foot curled under her, her chin nestling into her palm. "Do you love me?" "Not one single speck. I merely like you to make love at me and cause my heart to jomp! But that is not fair to you, is it?-since you can have no hope." The little hypocrite continued to voice words of warning and denial, though her eyes invited him, and for a long time they continued this delightful play of pleading and evasion. But at last Chiquita jumped up with a great appearance of alarm.