“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. A disconcerting gray eye that had a mystifying depth. He pulled rein at the sight of her, saluted, and regarded her with his rather too protuberant eyes. Then the hotel manager struck his palms together sharply, and two Chinese "boys" came pattering in from the dining room. Be this as it may, Jonathan remained the victor; and shortly afterwards,—at the price of a third of his estate, it was whispered,—he procured Trenchard's liberation from confinement.
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