Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. Sheppard, with an agonized look at Wood. They crossed the Channel in sunshine and a breeze that just ruffled the sea to glittering scales of silver. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. Sheppard raised her hand, and the malediction trembled upon her tongue.
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