That's all the excitement I hunger for."
Norine filled a basin with clean water and, taking a fresh
bandage, wrapped up the self-inflicted hurt, Branch watching her
anxiously. Now and again he flinched like a child when she touched
his wound. At last he inquired, apprehensively, "Is it infected?"
"No."
"Lord! I'm glad! Wouldn't it be just my luck to get blood
poisoning?"
Norine surprised her patient by inquiring, irrelevantly, "Leslie,
is there anybody here who can marry people?"
"Eh? Why, of course!" Then suddenly his somber face lightened and
he cried: "NORINE! DO YOU MEAN IT?"
"Not you. I wouldn't marry you."
"Why not? I'm perfectly well--"
"Please answer me."
Leslie settled back in his chair. "I dare say some of the Cuban
Cabinet officers could put up a good bluff at a marriage
ceremony."
"A bluff wouldn't do."
"Who's going to be married?"
"I am."
Branch started to his feet once more, his mouth fell open. "You?
Nonsense!" When she nodded, his face darkened. "Who is he? Some
Cuban, I'll bet--one of these greasers."
"It is poor Esteban."
"'Poor Esteban'! Damn it, they're all poor. That's the very reason
he asked you. He's after your money."
"He didn't ask me. I asked him. He's--dying, Leslie." There was a
pause. "I'm going to marry him and take him home, where he can get
well.
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