"Emancipated women are usually very clever," said Pine dryly, "as they combine the logic of the male with the intuition of the female. And I have observed myself, in many cases, that kindness brings out ingratitude."
Silver looked sullen and uneasy. "I don't know why you should talk to me in this strain," he said irritably. "I appreciate what you have done for me, and have no reason to treat you badly. If I did—"
"I would break you," flamed out his employer, angered by the mere thought. "So long as you serve me well, Silver, I am your friend, and I shall treat you as I have always done, with every consideration. But you play any tricks on me, and—" he paused expressively.
"Oh, I won't betray you, if that's what you mean."
"I am quite sure you won't," said the millionaire with emphasis. "For if you do, you return to your original poverty. And remember, Mark, that there is nothing in my life which has any need of concealment."
Silver cast a look round the tent and at the rough clothes of the speaker. "No need of any concealment?" he asked significantly.
"Certainly not," rejoined Pine violently. "I don't wish my gypsy origin to be known in the Gentile world. But if the truth did come to light, there is nothing to be ashamed of. I commit no crime in calling myself by a Gorgio name and in accumulating a fortune. You have no hold over me." The man's look was so threatening that Silver winced.
"I don't hint at any hold over you," he observed mildly. "I am bound to you both by gratitude and self-interest."
"Aha. That last is better. It is just as well that we have come to this understanding. If you—" Pine's speech was ended by a sharp fit of coughing, and Silver looked at his contortions with a thin-lipped smile.
"You'll kill yourself if you live this damp colonial sort of tent-life," was his observation. "Here, take a drink of water."