Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. "I beg your pardon!… A bit rocky this morning…. " She made the companion without touching stay or rail, which necessitated a fine sense of balance, for there was a growing vigour to the wind and a corresponding lift to the roll of the sea. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. Drink for him had a queer phase. He glanced up. “Take her limbs again. . You have the look in your eyes to-night which you had that day, the look of a frightened child. .
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