"So the man from Washington told you to bring this to me?"
Roger Seaton asked the question of Manella, twirling in his hand an unopened letter she had just given him. She nodded in the affirmative. He looked at her critically, amused at the evident pains she had taken with her dress and general appearance. He twirled the letter again like a toy in his fingers.
"I wonder what it's all about? Do you know?"
Manella shrugged her shoulders with a charming air of indifference.
"I? How should I know? He is your friend I suppose?"
"Not a bit of it!" and Roger stretched himself lazily and yawned--"He's the friend of nobody who is poor. But he's the comrade of everybody with plenty of cash. He's as hard as a dried old walnut, without the shred of a heart--"
"You are wrong!" said Manella, flushing up suddenly--"You are wrong and unjust! He is an ugly old man, but he is very kind."
Seaton threw back his head and laughed heartily with real enjoyment.
"Manella, oh, Manella!" he exclaimed--"What has he said or done to you to win your good opinion? Has he made you some pretty compliments, and told you that you are beautiful? Every one can tell you that, my dear! It does not need Mr. Senator Gwent's assurance to emphasise the fact! That you find him an ugly old man is natural--but that you should also think him 'very kind' DOES surprise me!"
Manella gazed at him seriously--her lovely eyes gleaming like jewels under her long black lashes.
"You mock at everything,"--she said--"It is a pity!"
Her tone was faintly reproachful. He smiled.
"My dear girl, I really cannot regard Mr. Senator Gwent as a figure to be reverenced!"--he said--"He's one of the dustiest, driest old dollar-grabbers in the States. I gave him the chance of fresh grab--but he was too much afraid to take it--"
"Afraid of what?" asked Manella, quickly.
"Of shadows!--shadows of coming events!--yes, they scared him! Now if you are a good girl, and will sit very quiet, you can come into my hut out of this scorching sun, and sit down while I read the letter--I may have to write an answer--and if so you can post it at the Plaza."
He went before her into the hut, and she followed. He bade her sit down in the chair by the window,--she obeyed, and glanced about her shyly, yet curiously. The room was not untidy, as she expected it would be without a woman's hand to set it in order,--on the contrary it was the perfection of neatness and cleanliness. Her gaze was quickly attracted by the bowl of perpetually moving fluid in the center of the table.