"First take the child," cried Darrell, holding up the infant, and clinging to the oar with a dying effort. Softly she rose to her feet. She needed to protect the baby. If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper. Austin could scarcely credit his senses when he beheld him. "Is it you?" "It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords. She felt her canines grow, the hunger consuming her. Brutes! They are the brute still with us! Science some day may teach us a way to do without them. Her hair and voice and figure are as yours used to be.
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