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Updated: June 3, 2025
He knows that Miss Myra Rostrevor, although she looks a mere slip of a girl, is quite capable of riding and handling almost any horse that ever was saddled, and is no more likely to be thrown than any of the Italian officers who have been competing for championships at the Olympia.
Myra caught sight of Don Carlos several times, and her heart beat a trifle fast when at last she saw him making his way through the crowd towards her during an interval. "May I have the pleasure and honour of dancing the next with you, Miss Rostrevor?" he inquired, with his usual courtly bow. "The floor is becoming less crowded now the news has gone round that supper is being served."
"Say, sir, do you happen to know who that young lady is?" he inquired. "Yes, I happen to know the young lady," responded the other, politely willing to satisfy the American's curiosity. "She is a Miss Rostrevor, daughter of a very old Irish family, and as wild a madcap as ever came out of the Emerald Isle." "She looks it," the American commented.
Doctor, please give Miss Rostrevor something to pull her together." "I'm quite all right, thanks," said Myra and promptly disproved her own statement by dropping limply into a deck-chair, covering her face with her hands, and bursting into tears.
So she made no reference to the letter when by chance she found herself alone with Don Carlos for a time during the course of the afternoon, but continued to exert herself to be "nice" to him. And when Myra Rostrevor set herself out to fascinate, she was an exceedingly alluring and seductive creature.
By the look of Miss Rostrevor, and the way she handled that horse, I should have guessed her fancy would have run to something more of the big, he-man type, instead of to a Society dandy. But one can never tell where women are concerned. And five hundred thousand dollars a year will make any kind of guy almost any kind of girl's ideal."
"Incidentally, it is nice of you to keep your promise not to make love to me, but but " She broke off as if at a loss. For once in a way Myra Rostrevor was deliberately playing the part of coquette, and she saw Don Carlos's eyes flame suddenly with ardour and expectation. "You mean that you no longer hold me to my promise, Myra?" he asked, scarcely above a whisper.
"Sure, and is it frightened you are of the conceited Spaniard?" she asked herself. "You've prided yourself on being a match for any man, and being able to keep any ardent suitor at arm's length, and here you are in a funk! It's ashamed of you I am, Myra Rostrevor!"
If I beat you, one of your gang of cut-throat ruffians would probably knife me. I see through your bluff, my man. You are pretending that you want to keep Miss Rostrevor with the idea of extorting a bigger ransom." "You insult me!" thundered Don Carlos, springing up from his chair and bringing his clenched fist down on the table with a crash.
Why don't you come down to brass tacks and state your terms?" "Don Carlos did not misunderstand you, and you are lying," Cojuelo rasped at him. "Confess now to the Señorita Rostrevor that you have renounced her." "I shall do nothing of the sort, confound you!" Standish exclaimed angrily. "Why the deuce don't you state your terms and have done with it?"
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