Si, si, vat you tink of dat--me,
Mercedes Morales, de dancer at de Gayety--he ask me vould I marry him.
Oh, Mother of God!"

The young American stared at her upturned animated face, suddenly
aroused to womanly interest.

"And what did you say?"

Mercedes stamped her foot savagely on the hard ground, her eyes glowing
like coals of fire.

"You ask vat I say? Saints of God! vat could I say? He vas a good
man, dat Senor Brown, but I--I vas not a good voman. I no tell him
dat--no! no! I vas shamed; I get red, vite; I hardly speak at all; my
heart thump so I tink maybe eet choke me up here, but I say no. I say
no once, tvice, tree time. I tell him he big fool to tink like dat of
me. I tell him go vay an' find voman of his own race--good voman. I
tell him eet could nevah be me, no, nevah."

"Then you do not love him?"

The puzzled dancer hesitated, her long lashes lowered, and outlined
against her cheeks.

"Lofe? Dat vas not nice vord as eet come to me. I know not ver' vell
just vat. Maybe if I not lofe him I marry him--si; I no care den. I
make him to suffer, but not care; ees eet not so? Anyhow, I--vat you
call dat?--respect dis Senor Brown mooch, ver' mooch. Maybe dat last
longer as lofe--_quien sabe_?"

Scarcely comprehending this peculiar explanation, Beth Norvell's first
conception was that the girl had chosen wrong, that she had allied
herself upon the side of evil.

"You mean you--you will go back to Biff Farnham?" she asked, her tone
full of horror.

Mercedes straightened up quickly, her young, expressive face filled
with a new passion, which struggled almost vainly for utterance through
her lips.

"Go back to dat man!" she panted. "Me? _Sapristi_! and you tink I do
dat after Senor Brown ask me be hees vife! Blessed Mary! vat you tink
I am? You tink I not feel, not care? I go back to dat Farnham? Eet
vould not be, no! no! I tol' him dat mooch, an' he got mad. I no
care, I like dat. I no lofe him, nevah; I vas sold to him for money,
like sheep, but I learn to hate him to kill." The deep glow of the
black eyes softened, and her head slowly dropped until it touched the
other's extended arm. "But dis Senor Brown he vas not dat kind--he ask
me to marry him; he say he not care vat I been, only he lofe me, an' he
be good to me alvays. I vas hungry for dat, senorita, but I say no,
no, no! Eet vas not for me, nevah. I send him avay so sorry, an' den
I cry ven I hear his horse go out