Sheppard, faintly. “Your father is dead too, I believe,” he continued, “and your mother. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. I can be that man, the one I know you want. “My God!” he said at last, with tremendous feeling, and then again, “My God!” Now that this thing was said her mind was clear and calm. ’ At that, a flush drenched her cheeks and she snatched her hand away.
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