"Your answer!" cried Sheppard. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. "But never mind who, or what I am. Just what it means. And Pottiswick, of course. . She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. ” She looked at him for a moment with fire in her eyes. Sheppard, if you please, Ma'am," interrupted the lad; "I allow nobody to call me Jack. McClintock.
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