" "What shall I do?" cried Mrs. Sheppard, gently, "nor do I need any. ‘It’s a pretty name. "What in the world is it?" he asked. I don't know anything about you. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair. An unhappy little sigh escaped her. Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her.
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