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'" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. Spurlock (himself verging upon the hysterical) welcomed the diversion. ” “Then why,” Anna asked quietly, “do you run away? It is not like you. Her recent attitude towards him was undoubtedly a pose. Oh, don't worry. She did this to please him. Down there, whisky raises the very devil with white men. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction.
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