She found a clean sweatshirt and soft pajama pants, glad to trade the wet for the dry. Her nerves were shattered, her senses dazed by this unexpected shock. He suddenly became eloquent and plausible. It was of no use, she let him do it as she could not be strangled. "To-morrow night!" said Spurlock, in a wondering whisper. You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. He had particular reasons for wanting to keep Spurlock away from the jetty. "Stay!" cried Wood, "this is a most perplexing business—if you really are privy to the affair——" "We'll talk of it to-morrow, Sir," returned Jackson, cutting him short.
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