She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. ’ ‘I don’t know,’ confessed Gerald. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. JACK SHEPPARD. She charged boldly into the space of Miss Miniver’s rhetorical pause. She plucked at the knots of her racket and heard him to the end, then spoke in a restrained undertone. They were talking of “Alcide,” as they often did in those days.
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