"I? Miss you?" Rosa lifted her brows in pretended amazement. Then
she tipped her head daintily to one side, as if weighing his
question earnestly. "You are amusing, of course, but--I won't have
much time to think about you, for I am so soon to be married."

"Married? WHAT?" O'Reilly started violently, and the girl
exclaimed, with well-feigned concern:

"Oh, senor! You have wounded yourself again on that thorn-bush.
This place is growing up to brambles."

"It wasn't my finger! Something pierced me through the heart.
MARRIED? Nonsense!"

"Indeed! Do you think I'm so ugly nobody would have me?"

"Good Lord! You--" O'Reilly swallowed hard. "I won't tell you the
truth when you know it so well."

"The richest man in Matanzas asked for my hand this very
afternoon."

"Who? Mario de Castano?"

"Yes."

O'Reilly laughed with relief, and though Rosa tried to look
offended, she was forced to smile. "He's fat, I know," she
admitted, "and he makes funny noises when he breathes; but he is
richer than Croesus, and I adore rich men."