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 voice hardened. "You speak of him as a friend of yours, as if the brute were an equal."

Giles looked disturbed. "So he is, socially," he answered, in a cold voice. "Dessalines is a gentleman—a lot better sort than a good many one meets; besides, he's well born in his own country. He's a count."

"But he's a negro!" cried Manning.

Giles glanced at him in surprise. "Don't see that his color makes any difference. What's the odds whether he's African or Indian or Persian or Turk, as long as he's well born, well educated, and well behaved? They all thought a lot of him at Oxford; he was asked everywhere. Clever chap, too, Aristide. Fine speaker. He is very religious; used to do a good deal of evangelical work with a little sect which called itself the 'Unionist Presbyters.' Aristide did most of the preaching. Got them no end of recruits. Fine chap, Aristide," he concluded, a trifle doggedly.

A swarthy color showed through Manning's Carolina tan. When angry or excited the pupils of his eyes contracted, showing more of the light hazel, with the result that the whole eye seemed to pale; this gave a sinister effect not without its fascination to his passionate face. Virginia read the danger signal and threw a fender between, the two men; not that any was necessary, as their friendship was too firm to permit of a quarrel.

"But a negro is of an inferior race, Giles. He does not come of an old civilization, like the others you mention."

"All the more reason for giving him a hand up when you see him trying hard to rise, it seems to me." 10