"Oh, you needn't despair. Big Sam appeared to be dealing frankly with me, but that proves nothing. Big Sam is an accomplished diplomat and would tell any story that suited his purpose, and tell it so neatly that you couldn't distinguish it from the truth. For all I know, she may be the daughter of the Empress of China."
"Nothing so interesting, I fear," said Miss Fillmore, with a sober shake of the head.
"Well, then, let's make believe. She shall be a princess of the blood royal, and shall have a story suited to her dignity."
Miss Fillmore smiled dubiously, as though she were not quite certain whether I was in jest or earnest.
"It isn't necessary," she said, her practical mind refusing to descend to frivolity. "Whatever her origin, we must see that she has a better fate than the one that threatens her."
"Yes, so far as it can be done within the conditions laid down by Big Sam."
Miss Fillmore's forehead drew into a knot of lines in which could be read a mingling of disapproval and anxiety.
"I have been thinking," she said, with an apologetic reproach in her voice, "that you didn't do quite right to make those conditions. Can't they be--" she was going to say "evaded" but after a moment's debate with a feminine conscience changed it to "modified."
"I'm afraid I didn't make myself clear," I said. "Those were the only conditions on which the girl could have the opportunity to escape. Unless Big Sam can arrange better terms with the tongs, we have no choice but to live up to them."
Miss Fillmore was silent at this, and I wondered whether I had not, on my side, given too strong an emphasis to the reminder that we were discussing a question of good faith.