I shall still wear your favor—even if it is a stolen and forbidden favor—in my casque. Everything in his favour—the luck of the gods! The only white men were miles down the coast. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. ‘Would it so? What sort of a girl is she, then?’ ‘She’s a consummate devil,’ Gerald declared roundly. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. The lady grasped it more firmly and turned it upon Hilary. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp.
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