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it?” How, if she were really sleeping, did she guess the time? Ann didn’t like that question—didn’t want to think Mrs. Holmes was acting. What motive would she have for such a foolish deception? And she wasn’t acting when she wept and shivered. Her tears were teal enough. Ann pushed aside all thought of Mrs. Holmes. At any rate she had no intention of discussing her employer with any one.

“Can you keep a secret?” asked Marsh suddenly.

Ann turned in quick alarm.

“I don’t like secrets,” she answered. “Especially if they concern other people.”

“This only concerns me.”

Ann drew a breath of relief.

“Yes, I could keep that,” she answered.

“Me and Nigger,” he went on.

“Tell me.” Ann’s eyes were bright with interest. “I never thanked you for winning that money for me.”

He grinned.

“What did you do with it?”

“I’ve got it at home. It ought to be in the Savings Bank. How much did you lose of yours?”

“Only about a quarter of it. The rest’s safe—for the present.” He was still smiling at her, “But I’m doing it in on Nigger.”

“What do you mean?”

“Swear you won’t give me away? I haven’t told any one yet.”

“Not even Mrs. Bentley?” said Ann.

The words seemed to have spoken themselves without her volition. How gauche, how outrageous of her to have made that remark!