When I could set searchers after her, she had vanished.

Poor motherless thing; I imagine she is the slave of some gay lady at Antioch or Ephesus or Rome now." "And you do not know who stole her ?" asked Agias.
"Don't tear open old wounds," was the retort.

"I know nothing.

I think--but it matters little what I think.

There was that sly-eyed, smooth-tongued Greek, like that Phaon who met his deserts, who was no stranger to Domitius's blackmailings.