Sheppard had been interred. CHAPTER III. She had thought of the lawyer who conducted the Remenham business, but she knew not where to find him. The hour for which, presumably, she had been created was drawing nigh. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no more. She tucked the mission Bible under her arm, and crooking a finger at Rollo, went forth to the west beach where the sou'-west surge piled up muddily, burdened with broken spars, crates, boxes, and weeds. “No,” she said at last; “I’m a human being—not a timid female. He is Jacques. .
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