You are welcome to proclaim yourself ‘Alcide’ if you will. But I've an idea as well as you, grounded in some measure upon Sheppard's story. Her father, her own father! She remembered now a verse from the Psalms her father had always been quoting; but now she recited it with perfect understanding. Fortunately, the window was not far from the ground; so opening it gently, he dropped into a backyard, and from thence got into the street. " He shook his head. ‘I said you were sympathique,’ she told him. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. Die game. He looked the boy over with interest.
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