'" "Slave?" echoed Jack. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. He walked out into the Champs Elysées and sat down. He wore a French military undress of the period, with high jack-boots, and a laced hat; and, though his attire indicated no particular rank, he had completely the air of a person of distinction. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. She moved forward almost indiscernibly, a millimeter. Gerald had been confident that the boy would not dream of disobeying an order thrown at him by a major of militia, but he guessed Jack might be wondering if he was about to be haled off to prison. “I can’t conceive what you want. “Tell me his name,” he said, “and I promise that he shall never trouble you. This obstacle being removed, in his eagerness to proceed, he had forgotten to take his little charge with him.
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