"Miss Wellington, there are certain reasons why the position you helped me to obtain was vitally necessary. I am a dependant in your house. I can assure you that you will never find anything half so grievous against me as that which you have already found—your 'Dying Gladiator' a servant. You must think of that."
"But I am not so deluded as to think you cannot explain that" cried the girl. "How foolish! You are not a servant, never were, and I am sure never will be one. And I know you have n't sneaked in as a yellow newspaper reporter, or magazine writer," tentatively. "You are not a sneak."
"No, I have not the intention, nor the ability, to make copy of my experiences," said Armitage.
"Intention!" echoed the girl. "Well, since you suggest the word, just what was, or is, your intention then?—if I may ask."
Armitage straightened and looked full at the girl.
"Suppose I should say that ever since that morning on the General I had—" Armitage hesitated. "I reckon I 'd rather not say that," he added.
"No, I reckon you had better not," she said placidly. "In the meantime, how long do you intend staying with us before giving notice?"
Armitage did not reply immediately. He stood for a moment in deep thought. When he looked up his face was serious.
"Miss Wellington, I have neither done nor said anything that would lead you to believe that, whatever I may have been, I am now in any way above what I appear to be, with the Wellington livery on my back. I say this in justice to you. I say it because I am grateful to you. You may regard it as a warning, if you will."
For a moment she did not reply, sitting rigidly thoughtful, while Armitage, abandoning all pretence at work, stood watching her.