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She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. She wondered even at this late day how she had been able to hold her maddening curiosity in check. Was the situation so desperate that he could not pack his best things? She had packed lightly, not wanting to weigh down the carriage they would travel in. Sheppard did not dare to return any answer; but, disengaging herself from his embrace, endeavoured meekly to comply with his request. Would to God I had. "Your answer!" cried Sheppard. ‘So it would appear. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. She crawled underneath the soft white sheets, reclining and pulling the blankets up to her chin. He uttered a deep groan, but said nothing. “Yes, I know. He returned her to her door at a decent hour, well before 10:00.
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