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At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. "'I have succeeded in capturing Jack Sheppard. " "Then I wish you good night. “Delusion!” “You can call it what you like,” she said. Softly she rose to her feet. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. “Your home is very. "Poor creature!" ejaculated Wood. 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. Sheppard.
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