Men had tried to kiss her— unshaven derelicts, some of them terrible—but she had always managed to escape. But she was disturbed, mysteriously disturbed. Twice she smiled, but not unkindly. '" "Slave?" echoed Jack. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. ” Annabel looked intently into her glass. ‘Don’t concern yourself. . "It is time!" "For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference. Anna sat quite still for a moment, and then the colour suddenly returned to her cheeks. The rascal will be at work before the morning.
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