1. ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. Sheppard, whose distress at the consumption of the provisions had been somewhat allayed by the anticipation of the intruder's departure after he had satisfied his appetite, was now terrified in the extreme by seeing a light approach, and hearing footsteps on the stairs. He had taken it back. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest.
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