Sheppard raised her eyes, and fixed them upon her interrogator. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. . ’ ‘I imagine it must be a relief to you, after so lucky an escape. . ’ He held his hands out of the way, surrendering his chest for her assault. I was certain of it. My birthday was on May first. The men have never had so much work to do since they banded. Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers.
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