She battled with a deadly faintness, and she tottered rather than walked back to her seat. " "Can I have a word with you, master?" said Sheppard, approaching Wood. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. He was beginning to think about her inordinately. Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well.
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