He smiled.
"My dear girl, I really cannot regard Mr.Senator Gwent as a figure to be reverenced!"-- he said--"He's one of the dustiest, driest old dollar-grabbers in the States.

I gave him the chance of fresh grab--but he was too much afraid to take it--" "Afraid of what ?" asked Manella, quickly.
"Of shadows!--shadows of coming events!--yes, they scared him! Now if you are a good girl, and will sit very quiet, you can come into my hut out of this scorching sun, and sit down while I read the letter--I may have to write an answer--and if so you can post it at the Plaza." He went before her into the hut, and she followed.

He bade her sit down in the chair by the window,--she obeyed, and glanced about her shyly, yet curiously.

The room was not untidy, as she expected it would be without a woman's hand to set it in order,--on the contrary it was the perfection of neatness and cleanliness.

Her gaze was quickly attracted by the bowl of perpetually moving fluid in the center of the table.
"What is that ?" she asked.
"That?
Oh, nothing! An invention of mine--just to look pretty and cool in warm weather! It reminds me of women's caprices and fancies--always on the jump! Yes!--don't frown, Manella!--that is so! Now--let me see what Mr.Sam Gwent has to say that he didn't say before---" and seating himself, he opened the letter and began to read.
Manella watched him from under the shadow of her long-fringed eyelids--her heart beat quickly and uncomfortably.