" "What say you, Sir?" said the Amazon, with an engaging leer at the stranger. We may be all murdered in this unprotected place, and nobody be the wiser. "Come down stairs directly, and let your mother look at your wrist. Pole coolies came joggling along with bobbing blocks of jade—white jade, splashed and veined with translucent emerald green. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. Do you think we could manage that old clothesman between us, if we got out of this box?" "I'd manage him myself, if my arms were free," replied Thames, boldly. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight.
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