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“Can you spare me a moment?” he asked. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. “Turn me. It hung from the centre of a stout pole, each end of which rested upon the calloused shoulder of a coolie; an ordinary Occidental chair with a foot-rest. " "Ah! traitor!" cried Jack, who had noticed the movement; "make such another attempt, and it shall cost you your life. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words.
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