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CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. "I shall be back presently," replied Thames, evasively. The flush deck was without wells. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. “Which is Mr. " "Fine! I'll be wanting a guide. She seemed bursting with the desire to talk, and watching for her opportunity. ’ The lady shook her head, contriving at the same moment to utter a breathy little laugh. Sheppard, if you please, Ma'am," interrupted the lad; "I allow nobody to call me Jack.
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