Tom. Oh, you're blind!
Dick. And you expect me to see through your eyes? Well, who is this paragon?
Tom. Moselle's friend, who came home with her to-day. I have only met her once. She is all grace and beauty, and, I'll swear, as good as she is beautiful. If I could only win her, Dick.
Dick. Well, what's to prevent?
Tom. I am only a poor miner, and she—
Dick. A poor judge of manhood, if she takes you at your own valuation. Send her to me: I'll tell her, that if she wants a warm heart, a determined spirit, and a courageous arm, she will find them in Tom Carew, who, in those virtues, stands head and shoulders above all the miners of Nevada. I suppose that is her picture you are nursing so carefully in your belt.
Tom. No: that is a poor devil whom a detective is tracking.
Dick. Ah! let's have a look at him. (Takes picture.)
Tom. A detective was here an hour ago; but it's not one of our boys. (Turns away to L.)