"Why, so it is," she said, in mock astonishment. Sheppard, passionately,—"he has my boundless gratitude, and devotion. “Shut up, you little faggot. His voice had broken. But, no. I get my driver's license tomorrow. “What else was I to do?” For some seconds she stood watching him and both were thinking very quickly. But Jack did not heed them. She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood. ” She rang the bell, and he waited by her side until she was admitted to the tall, gloomy lodging-house. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired.
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