Between two languages
and two women, I was as helpless as an ironed prisoner. Not that Anita
had any influence over me, but the mistress of the ranch had. In her
hands I was as helpless as a baby. I had come to the ranch a stranger
only a little over a year before, but had I been born there her interest
could have been no stronger. Jean Lovelace relinquished no one, any more
than a mother would one of her boys. I wanted to escape, to get away
from observation; I even plead for a month's leave of absence. But my
reasons were of no avail, and after arguing pro and con for over an
hour, I went with her to the house. If the Almighty ever made a good
woman and placed her among men for their betterment, then the presence
of Jean Lovelace at Las Palomas savored of divine appointment.
On reaching the yard, we rested a long time on a settee under a group
of china trees. The boys had dispersed, and after quite a friendly chat
together, we saw Uncle Lance sauntering out of the house, smiling as he
approached. "Tom's going to stay," said Miss Jean to her brother, as
the latter seated himself beside us; "but this abuse and blame you're
heaping on him must stop. He did what he thought was best under the
circumstances, and you don't know what they were.
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