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She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. It had a tiny flaw, most bizarre. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. She seemed to have recovered herself as he returned, but rose as if she would go back to the saloon. She could no longer wait. ” “Poor old ring!” said Ann Veronica.
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