And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas. She fell into another slumber, one which was more like a blackout. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. She veiled her emotion by taking off his overcoat. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. Sheppard staggered forward. "Yes—what do you mean, Ma'am?" added Jack, staggering after her. You and the girl have made it soft for him, and I'm going to make it soft for him. "I'll be his evil genius!" vociferated Jonathan, who seemed to enjoy her torture. It would be easy enough for me to write an eloquent letter about something else.
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