No; the wholly heartbroken St. John was not pleased. Not at all! Neither the plaintive braying of the Don’s llamas nor the full knowledge that her fate was now sealed impressed her, and it was all because he wasn’t there. Intellectually, she realized that young Ulysses, the foreign, foreign, subterranean brilliant scholar who had wanted to make her his life’s work, had a full life in which he was starring in yet another film with Judas Farmer, and he could not be expected to hold any consideration for the pleasure of one silver girl. Intellectually, she knew this. And yet…
   Truly, it had been a most savage day when the gypsy woman had brought him to her attention.
   Then, without any warning, a sudden clatter of hooves shattered her composure into a million quotidian pieces! She leapt to her feet with hope — and alarm — in her eyes. Surely it could not be — but it was! At the door, the barbarian and masculine face she had come to know so well! “Kiss me,” he expostulated in the outwardly-rough manner she had grown to love while he went down on his knees and implored her to forgive him. “I need you, my perfect little carrot!”
   At long last as the music in her heart rose to a new crescendo of happiness, she knew that life without him was unthinkable, if not foreign. Wthout him, could she ever have took a moment to plan some of the details of their pre-nuptial agreement?