The father, granite; the daughter, fire: Spurlock saw the one and heard the other, his amazement indescribable. "O Massa Ireton! Massa Wild!" ejaculated Caliban, "Shack Sheppart gone!" "Gone? you black devil!—Gone?" cried Ireton. His appetite was perfectly Gargantuan. His eyes were bright with the hunt. The shock and distress were genuine. But the survey was satisfactory, and she found herself presently in Room No. Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. "That's your hunting ground," said the doctor. .
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