not bother to answer, grew fewer. And eventually she said a little sadly to Lucy Hodge, who had regarded the affair with watchful and amused indulgence, "I don't think I shall ever love just one man. I'm too selfish. I want them all to love me and let me choose a particular one for each occasion as I do my gowns." Which pleased Lucy very much.
Don Caesar de Cordoba made it a point to visit his daughter at least once a year. At intervals he professed to be alarmed at the worldly polish she was acquiring. But in reality he was pleased. She had developed into an alluring woman of quite evident poise and sophistication, a slightly arrogant little tilt to her smooth chin, an ease with older people that was quite different from the ungainly girl of fifteen whom he had brought to Lucy and the convent. A true de Cordoba—and an admirable wife for his old chum, Don Pablo, the charming connecting link between the fortunes and power of the honorable and ancient families of de Cordoba and Mendoza.
So thought Don Caesar as his old friend and he sat smoking and occasionally sipping wine and talking of the intricacies of Argentine politics upon the broad piazza of the Hacienda de Cordoba.
But when Carmelita's four years of American education that had taught her so much that
