Sheppard stopped him. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. Secretly she was gratified to be assigned to the rôle of an old traveller. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. ‘You know pretty much everything you need to know. She found a little difficulty in beginning.
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