"No such thing," rejoined the jailer; "he's coming on business. " "Why what will she say?" inquired Sheppard. It came into her head with real emotional force that this must be some particularly fantastic sort of dream. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. “You!” said Ann Veronica. The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. The imbecile. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once.
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