"By my soul," said the sexton, "that's as like Jack Sheppard as any one I ever seed i' my born days. “And yet,” he said, “you bid me talk cheerfully, or not at all. . He spent the remainder of the afternoon looking for a friend whom he found at last in the billiard room of one of the smaller clubs to which he belonged. A girl—at my age—is grown-up. ’ Then she ran swiftly out of the library, calling out as her cavalier was almost at the front door. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. "Open my heart, Father of Mercy!" she murmured, in a humble tone, and with downcast looks, "and make me sensible of the error of my ways.
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