He glanced down between the still narrow distance that lay between Melusine and himself, and discovered her hand there, a very small dagger within it. ’ Fresh suspicion kindled in his breast. Sheppard staggered forward. Fast asleep, he is. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. On the contrary. She searched for it for many days that stretched into weeks before she gave up.
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