" "Thank'ee, Sir," grinned Sheppard. It seems that he was a sort of family friend of the Pellissiers, and it was the artist sister whom he was with. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel. And I think I will indeed blow off your imbecile head. Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. This, Wood, acting upon Terry's caution, was most unwilling to do; but, finding he had no alternative, he reluctantly made known his errand and the bolts were undrawn. He figures them out, though. The cook tried to ply her with spiced meat and fish soup. She was given a glimpse of his soul. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre.
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