" "I should like to satisfy myself on that score," rejoined Wild, drily. " "But how in the Lord's name was she brought up? There's a queer story back of this somewhere. Charity for the ragtag and the bobtail of the Seven Seas, and none for his own flesh and blood. She moaned as he buried himself completely to the hilt. He moved, after quiet intervals, with a quick little movement, and ever and again stroked his small mustache and coughed a selfconscious cough. Then he rallied, smiling a little. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull.
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