"I must go," she says; "it is getting late."
"The boy is sleeping. I will walk home with you."
"No, stay by him. I shall be all right alone."
"They have shot a tiger, and will be all drunk in the village for a week. You are different to me. I must come."
"Thank you," says Eleanor. "I shall enjoy your companionship. May I ask your name?"
"Elizabeth Kachin. And yours?"
"Eleanor—Eleanor Quinton."
Mrs. Roche's eyes droop as she turns them away from the sleeping face of that innocent child.
* Spirits.