But if I escape, my gratitude—" "Pshaw!" interrupted Jonathan, scornfully. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. In the north they called her Manitou, in the south, Pabothkew. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. The mighty concourse became for a moment still. Anna did not pause, but she looked over her shoulder with slightly lifted eyebrows. She is, in her way, a dear. My father was Colonel Pellissier. “Sold again,” she remarked. “How dared you do yourself this injustice?” “I did it for her sake,” she answered.
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