Through the dim dusk gathering among the pines he came to the cabin. A light winked at him through the open door; Maria, Joe's daughter, was getting his supper. Well, he was ready for it; blow hot, blow cold, a man must eat. "Hello, Señorita," he greeted her from the threshold. "How does it feel to be the one and only daughter of the most distinguished gentleman in town?" Maria did not understand him, but her white teeth flashed and her large southern eyes were warm and friendly. "They found your papa," he told her. "He's in jail." "_Seguro_," responded Maria, unmoved. "That is nothing for him." Deveril laughed and went to wash at the bucket of water which the girl had placed on a bench in the corner. Maria finished setting his table with the few articles at hand, putting a black pot of red beans in the place of honor before his plate. As he returned from washing and smoothing his hair down, he noted the plate itself; a plain, cracked affair of heavy crockery with a faded design in red roses. Plainly, Maria had raided her mother's home for that. She was looking at him for his approval and received it. At the moment she had both hands occupied and he stooped forward and kissed her. It was lightly and carelessly done; a gay salute to the girl's warm smouldering beauty. For beauty of its kind she did have, that of the young half-bred animal. She gasped; her face, whether through indignation or pleasure, went a dark burning red. Deveril laughed softly and sat down upon the box which she had drawn up for his chair. It was only then that he saw that he had a visitor. His eyebrows shot upward as he wondered. Another girl or young woman; in that light, as she stood just outside his door, nothing very definite could be made of her. "Could I have a word with you, Mr. Deveril?" He came to his feet almost at the first word, quick and lithe and graceful. Always was Babe Deveril at his best when it was a question of a lady. The voice accosting him was clear and cool and musically modulated. He tried to make out her face, but was baffled by the shadow cast by her wide hat. She was clad in a neat dark outing suit and wore serviceable walking boots; she was slim and trim and young and confident. Beyond that the dusk made a mystery of her. "A thousand!" he returned in answer. "Won't you come in?" "It is very pleasant outside. May I sit on your door-step?" "Lord love you," he assured her, "you may do anything on earth that pleases you.... Maria, my dear, you may run home to your mama; I have affairs of state. And I'll be delighted to see you again at breakfast time." Maria put down her things and fled. Again Deveril laughed softly. "It was no tender scene that you interrupted," he told his visitor. "I was merely seeking expression in a bit of rudimentary human language of my gratitude for the loan of a cracked plate! Look at it!" He held it aloft. "A gratitude which obviously springs from the heart," she returned as lightly as he had spoken.