The rich colour warmed her cheeks to a rose-red that matched the sunset.

"I was going--to see if you--if you wanted anything"--she stammered, almost humbly.

"You know I do not"--he said--"You can spare yourself the trouble."

She drew herself up with a slight air of offence.

"If you want nothing why do you come down into the valley?" she asked. "You say you hate the Plaza!"

"I do!" and he spoke almost vindictively--"But, at the moment, there's some one there I want to see."

Her black eyes opened inquisitively.

"A man?"

"No. Strange to say, a woman."

A sudden light flashed on her mind.

"I know!" she exclaimed--"But you will not see her! She has gone!"

"What do you mean?" he asked, impatiently--"What do you know?"

"Oh, I know nothing!" and there was a sobbing note of pathos in her voice--"But I feel HERE!"--and she pressed her hands against her bosom--"something tells me that you have seen HER--the little wonderful white woman, sweetly perfumed like a rose,--with her silks and jewels and her fairy car!--and her golden hair... ah!--you said you hated a woman with golden hair! Is that the woman you hate?"

He stood looking at her with an amused, half scornful expression.