" "Cannot?" echoed Jack, a slight smile crossing his features. \"Word gets round. The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. "Good-bye, young man; and good luck. ’ Miss Froxfield regarded him in some interest. "For what?" "I had the paper with me. \" His brown eyes were tired and full of concern. The image did not move. .
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