CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. The afternoon had passed now into twilight. She twisted her fingers tightly. . "On my soul, yes," rejoined Jonathan. She resolved not to allow him or her hunger detract from the performance at hand, as it would be a special one, an evening to be remembered in the gray days to follow like a precious jewel. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself. . “Why?” he asked, suavely. Bring me clothing, I beg of you. Sheppard!" echoed Jack, surprised out of his caution. ’ Gerald grinned.
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