And the fences are down for good. Wood heard the cry. He had found her by the same agency her father had: native talk, which flew from isle to isle as fast as proas could carry it. "I am—I am!" cried the widow, snatching the babe, and pressing it to her breast with rapturous delight "God be thanked, I have found it!" "We have both good reason to be grateful," added the lady, with great emotion. " There was a pause. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. "I've done nothing to offend you," persisted Jack. Earles strode into the waiting-room. She saw how overworked he was. What sort of a human being are you, anyhow?" Enschede gazed seaward.
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