She seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom. His eyes were small and grey; as far apart and as sly-looking as those of a fox. Manning,” she said, “for a time—Will you tell no one? Will you keep this—our secret? I’m doubtful—Will you please not even tell my aunt?” “As you will,” he said. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. "If I escape, I will reward you.
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