He was silent again, thinking rapidly. “Well, of course,” he began again presently, “while there was the slightest possibility of Bill winning you, I would have died before saying that which I am about to say to you now, Dolores, because Bill is my friend, and I'd never double-cross him. With reference to this other man, however, I have no such code to consider. I'm pretty well convinced I'm out of the running, but I'll give that lad a race if it's the last act of my life. He's a stranger to me, and he isn't on the job to protect his claim, so why shouldn't I stake it if I can? But are you quite certain you aren't making a grave mistake in refusing Billy? He's quite a boy, my dear. I know him from soul to suspenders, and he'd be awfully good to you. He's kind and gentle and considerate, and he's not a mollycoddle, either.”
“I can't help it, Caliph. Please don't talk about him any more. I know somebody who is kinder and nobler and gentler.” She ceased abruptly, fearful of breaking down her reserve and saying too much.
“Well, if Bill's case is hopeless”—his hand came groping for hers, while he held her with his searching, wistful glance—“I wonder what mine looks like. That is, Dolores, I—I——'
“Yes, John?”
“I've played fair with my friend,” he whispered eagerly. “I'm not going to ask you to marry me, but I want to tell you that to me you're such a very wonderful woman I can't help loving you with my whole heart and soul.'
“I have suspected this, John,” she replied gravely.
“I suppose so. I'm such an obvious old fool. I've had my dream, and I've put it behind me, but I—I just want you to know I love you; so long as I live, I shall want to serve you when you're married to this other man, and things do not break just right for you both—if I have something he wants, in order to make you happy, I want you to know it's yours to give to him. I—I—I guess that's all, Dolores.”
“Thank you, John. Would you like to know this man I'm going to marry?”
“Yes, I think I'd like to congratulate the scoundrel.”
“Then I'll introduce you to him, John. I first met him on a train in Death Valley, California. He was a shaggy old dear, all whiskers and rags, but his whiskers couldn't hide his smile, and his rags couldn't hide his manhood, and when he thrashed a drummer because the man annoyed me, I just couldn't help falling in love with him. Even when he fibbed to me and disputed my assertion that we had met before——”