" "Quarrel with me as much as you please, Thames, but hear me," returned Sheppard. She entered and approached the bunk. As she averted her gaze, a terrible idea crossed her. She had now the clear and tranquil expression of one whose mind is made up. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. And nothing to tell her where to begin. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. Wild is a friend of yours, I'm sorry for what I said.
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