Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. "No—Sheppard?" rejoined Wild. What has been the matter?” “Toothache,” he answered laconically. He wiped the sweat from his chin and forehead. She had to make sure, for the peace of her mind, that this was really the man. "But we must be getting along if we are to lunch in the tower of the water-clock. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten.
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