"Stutter Brown?
Oh, call him back; cannot you call him back ?" The young Mexican shook her head, her white teeth gleaming, as she drew her shoulder free from the fingers clasping it.
"You vas too late, senorita," she replied, sweetly confident.

"He vas already gone to de 'Little Yankee.' But he speak mooch to me first." "Much about what ?" "Vel, he say he lofe me--he say eet straight, like eet vas vat he meant." "Oh!" "Si, senorita; he not even talk funny, maybe he so excited he forgot how, hey?
An' vat you tink dat he say den to Mercedes--vat ?" The other shook her head, undecided, hesitating as to her own purpose.
"He ask me vould I marry him.

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.