Yesterday!—who cared? To-morrow!—who knew? "Porpoise," she said, touching his hand. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. Never mind. The uproar was tremendous—men yelling— dogs barking,—but above all was heard the stentorian voice of Jonathan, urging them on. “Lucy, I have to talk to you. Anna looked at her curiously, and with sinking heart.
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