The lad looked alarmed. Valade, who was standing by her chair, glancing around the packed pink-papered saloon with a heavy frown on his face, was a thickset man of coarse, reddened feature, with a discontented air. Presently he reached out and laid his hand upon Spurlock's motionless shoulders. Wood brought up. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. " "Thank you! thank you!" faltered Jack, in a voice full of emotion. Her hair was the one part of her that did not exude the air of wealth.
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