Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. “You must play for us again sometime. “You too sing?” he asked. On coming to himself, he found he had been wrapped in a blanket and put to bed with a couple of hot bricks to his feet. “Well, if I find your conversation interesting I shall listen. "Who knows but this key may open a golden lock one of these days?" And, picking it up, he thrust it into his pocket.
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