CHAPTER XXIII Next morning Ruth did not refer to the episode on the sands of the lagoon. . But he held the smile until she turned away from the curtain. It seems to me very silly. " "Nor Jonathan Wild, I hope," interposed Sheppard. It’s not you—not a bit. Taken altogether, his physiognomy resembled one of those vagabond heads which Murillo delighted to paint, and for which Guzman d'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, or Estevanillo Gonzalez might have sat:—faces that almost make one in love with roguery, they seem so full of vivacity and enjoyment.
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