" "That is very kind of you," she acknowledged. Perhaps, after all, the others were right. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance. But beyond "amicable agreement in which mutual concessions are made," the word "compromise" was as blank as the Canton wall at night. I wouldn't trust a Malay, not if he were reared in the Vatican. She was not afraid exactly, but there was that about her loneliness to-night she distrusted. You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland.
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