of indifference.

"I suppose so! How should I know? He is here for his health."

Sam Gwent uttered a curious inward sound, something between a grunt
and a cough.

"Ah! I should like to know how long he's been ill!"

Manella again gave her graceful gesture.

"Surely you DO know if you are a friend of his?" she said.

He looked keenly at her.

"Are YOU a friend of his?"

She smiled--almost laughed.

"I? I am only a help in the Plaza--I take him his food--"

"Take him his food!" Sam Gwent growled out something like an oath--
"What! Can't he come and get it for himself? Is he treated like a
bear in a cage or a baby in a cradle?"

Manella gazed at him with reproachful soft eyes.

"Oh, you are rough!" she said--"He pays for whatever little trouble
he gives. Indeed it is no trouble! He lives very simply--only on new
milk and bread. I expect his health will not stand anything else--