" "Who cares if we do?" retorted Sheppard, with a look of defiance. “Please don’t,” she said. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. She decided to go out into the London afternoon again and get something to eat in an Aerated Bread shop or some such place, and perhaps find a cheap room for herself. Since the discovery of them, she had been madly eager to read these typewritten tales. CHAPTER XII. " "Come, come, don't take on thus, Captain," cried Blueskin, rising and walking towards him.
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