Galloway's second step, known only to himself and Florrie, was a
private meeting with the banker's daughter. It occurred upon the
second evening following his return, just after dark among the
cottonwoods, but a hundred yards from her home. He had made the
opportunity with the despatch which marked him now; he had watched for
her during the day, had appeared merely to pass her by chance on the
street, and had paused just long enough to ask her to meet him.
"I have done all that I planned to do," he announced triumphantly, his
eyes holding hers, forcing upon her spirit the mastery of his own.
"The power in Mexico is going to be Francisco Villa. I have seen him.
Let me talk with you to-night, Florence. History is in the making; it
may be you and I together who shape the destiny of a people."
After all, she was but a little over sixteen, her head filled with the
bright stuff of romance, and he was a forceful man who for his own
purposes had long studied her. She came to the tryst, albeit half in
trembling, a dozen tremulous times ready for a fleeing retreat.
Again he was all deference to her. He builded cunningly upon the fact
that he trusted her; that he, a strong man, put his faith in her, a
woman. He flattered her as she had never been flattered, not too
subtly, yet not so broadly as to arouse her suspicion of his intent.
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