” “I suppose not. ’ ‘He did, you know,’ grinned Gerald. “I’m not nearly so sure as you. "There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. But between us, we'll have him writing books some day. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. Wood—and after him came his daughter. “It has been very kind of you to see me, but I don’t want to sit and talk and use your time any longer. “Oh, Michelle, I’m such a miserable fool. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood.
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