Perhaps he had had money in the coat, back in Hong-Kong, and had been robbed without knowing it. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him. All these circumstances,—slight in themselves, but powerful in their effect,—touched the heart of the widowed carpenter, and added to his depression. Kneebone smiled assent. Clientèle was of the most transitory character.
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