Indian to the hottest pitch of his being.
“But I don’t feel like a goddess in a Mexican pantheon,” she said. “Mexico is a bit horrible to me. Don Ramón is wonderful: but I’m so afraid they will destroy him.”
“Come, and help to prevent it.”
“How?”
“You marry me. You complain you have nothing to do. Then marry me. Marry me, and help Ramón and me. We need a woman, Ramón says, to be with us. And you are the woman. There is a great deal to do.”
“But can’t I help without marrying anybody?” said Kate.
“How can you?” he said simply.
And she knew it was true.
“But you see,” she said, “I have no impulse to marry you, so how can I?”
“Why?” he said.
“You see, Mexico is really