Mercedes came in, radiant and soft-voiced. She fell upon her knees beside Thorne's bed, and neither of them appeared to see Nell enter with a tray. Then Gale and Nell made a good deal of unnecessary bustle in moving a small table close to the bed. Mercedes had forgotten for the moment that her lover had been a starving man. If Thorne remembered it he did not care. They held hands and looked at each other without speaking.
"Nell, I thought I had it bad," whispered Dick. "But I'm not—"
"Hush. It's beautiful," replied Nell, softly; and she tried to coax Dick from the room.
Dick, however, thought he ought to remain at least long enough to tell Thorne that a man in his condition could not exist solely upon love.
Mercedes sprang up blushing with pretty, penitent manner and moving white hands eloquent of her condition.
"Oh, Mercedes—don't go!" cried Thorne, as she stepped to the door.
"Senor Dick will stay. He is not mucha malo for you—as I am."
Then she smiled and went out.
"Good Lord!" exclaimed Thorne. "How I love her. Dick, isn't she the most beautiful, the loveliest, the finest—"
"George, I share your enthusiasm," said Dick, dryly, "but Mercedes isn't the only girl on earth."