Spurling, as if struck by a sudden idea. ’ ‘Capting Roding wouldn’t never command me to help no Frenchie,’ said the sergeant positively. Sheppard, rushing from the adjoining room. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. There was nothing in the pockets of the coat. And now I find, when it is too late, that I might have deserved you—that I am as well born as Thames Darrell. ’ Then she ran swiftly out of the library, calling out as her cavalier was almost at the front door.
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