" "Two can play at that game, my blood," replied Sheppard, rising, and putting himself into a posture of defence. Holding the lamp over her rigid but beautiful features, Jonathan, with some anxiety, placed his hand upon her breast to ascertain whether the heart still beat. Forgive me if a certain warmth creeps into my words! The Park is green and gray to-day, but I am glowing pink and gold. It shall be done as you direct. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. The biological laboratory had an atmosphere that was all its own. " The Wastrel laughed. Lucy had tried for years to find a way of not getting blood all over herself when she made a kill. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. Sheppard, with a deep sigh, perceiving that her benefactor hesitated to pronounce the word. "I've spoken. The Higher Life and the Lower.
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