By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. She crawled into her small bed, dizzy with the thoughts of him, of kissing him. Sheppard, raising herself, and looking at him as if her life depended upon the answer. "One motive alone shall induce me to go on with you," said Jack. Proof that the scoundrel had risen from the dead—for he was dead to his father! He glared at the female whose appearance in England had revived those painful memories—churning unbearably since Brewis Charvill had brought him the news and put him in the worst of tempers—and the fury spilled out.
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