Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. Jack paused for a moment, and found that his own adventures formed the subject of the ballad. ” “You have her face and figure,” he muttered. She tossed her head, and, having no further words, moved toward the door. A lesson learned. Her figure was, in some measure, hidden by a large scarf, and a deep hood drawn over the head contributed to her disguise; still it was evident, from her lofty bearing, that she had nothing in common, except an interest in their proceedings, with the crew by whom she was surrounded. Jack was not half your age when he died.
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