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" "That's my own concern," rejoined Sheppard. CHAPTER XXVII. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. Her heavy pistol came up again, although she did not rise. He stood by her side, and he suffered her hands to rest in his. She had reason enough to be grateful to Prudence Sindlesham and it was not fair that this horrible feeling of loneliness should be made known to her. His hand fell lightly to her chest where her heart was 211 beating, almost tenderly. John Sheppard.
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