She donned her gloves. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. She snapped out of her blissful state and looked at him squarely in the eyes. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. What right had a young woman to possess the scarring and intimate knowledge of that dreg of human society, the beachcomber? CHAPTER II Ah Cum lived at No.
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