Sheppard snatched back her hand from his grasp, and exerted all her force to repel his advances. But why do you ask?" "Because—" stammered the boy. It’s like this: You want freedom. With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. " "Your secret?" demanded Trenchard, impatiently. On your own. CHAPTER II. Father-worshipping sons are abnormal— and they’re no good. I——” She threw herself into an easy chair. You are going to accept a post as chorus girl, or super, or something of that sort.
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