She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. The hills surrounded her cave home protectively. “I think, perhaps if you will excuse me, that we will defer the luncheon. CHAPTER IX. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue. ’ She stopped, for Jack was feebly laughing. Send you the shirt. And so is your companion,—the convict Sheppard.
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