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’ ‘As a matter of fact, it isn’t,’ conceded Gerald. Sheppard, passing her hands over his face, and gazing at him with a look that made him shudder. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. “I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man. Only of course I must begin something else at once. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. He looked like an animated skeleton that someone had hung a smelly 105 brown beard upon.
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