" "Back!" cried Rowland. He was tender with her as he had not been in years. Still, he was puzzled because McClintock had not spoken. Sheppard, if you please, Ma'am," interrupted the lad; "I allow nobody to call me Jack. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. Pausing at each door on the landing, Jack placed his ear to the keyhole, and listened intently.
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