" "Mother!" cried Jack, in a broken voice. Sheppard, struggling to get free. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. My only love is for my poor lost son. ” “Oh, well!” he said, a little doubtfully, “it’s just a phase,” and bent down and rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment, with his heart beating and his nerves a-quiver. ’ ‘What name would you like, then?’ Her shadowed features turned in his direction. But about the unknown Englishman she was not so satisfied. But he did not follow on with the thought.
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