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"
I
go
,
"
she
said
.
"
Me
voy
.
I
go
.
"
He
looked
back
and
saw
her
standing
there
,
the
first
morning
sunlight
on
her
brown
face
and
the
cropped
,
tawny
,
burned
-
gold
hair
.
She
lifted
her
fist
at
him
and
turned
and
walked
back
down
the
trail
,
her
head
down
.
Primitivo
turned
around
and
looked
after
her
.
"
If
she
did
not
have
her
hair
cut
so
short
she
would
be
a
pretty
girl
,
"
he
said
.
"
Yes
,
"
Robert
Jordan
said
.
He
was
thinking
of
something
else
.
"
How
is
she
in
the
bed
?
"
Primitivo
asked
.
"
What
?
"
"
In
the
bed
.
"
"
Watch
thy
mouth
.
"
"
One
should
not
be
offended
when
—
—
"
