A hopeless love for me you feign.
Alas! of others thou art fonder,
And I, forsaken, sit and ponder.
Yet once again your voice is ringing,
I hear the burden of that singing.
Alas! I fled in vain
From Spain—dear Spain.
They applauded the song and the singer, Jack looking across to Philip as much as to say, "Isn't she an angel?" If Philip thought so, he did not say so, being busy with Eulalia. They were talking Chinese metaphysics, a pleasant subject to discuss with a pretty girl well up in the intricacies thereof. As to Jack and his angel!
"Querida!" murmured Dolores, slipping her hand into that of her lover's under cover of the darkness; "how lonely has my heart been without thee."
"Angelito," replied Jack, who was an adept at saying pretty things in Spanish; "I left behind my heart when I departed, and it has drawn me back to your side."