She was silent. “Thank you,” she said coolly. "You'll not forget the thousand, Sir Rowland—short accounts, you know. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it. But kill me rather than commit this outrage. " "Nay, if you're bent upon this folly," observed Wild, who appeared to have his own reasons for humouring the lad, "I shan't hinder you.
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