Strange that he should have a feeling of greater companionship for a vagabond like this than for most people he met.
Was it some temperamental thing in him?
"Dago," as he called the Romany inwardly, there was still a bond between them.

They understood the glory of a little instrument like this, and could forget the world in the light on a great picture.

There was something in the air they breathed which gave them easier understanding of each other and of the world.
Suddenly with a toss Jethro drained the glass of spirit, though he had not meant to do so.

He puffed the cigarette an instant longer, then threw it on the floor, and was about to put his foot on it, when Ingolby stopped him.
"I'm a slave," he said.

"I've got a master.