82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. " "I've no intention of stirring," replied the woollen-draper, who was thus unceremoniously disturbed: "and I beg you'll sit down, Mr. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. Sheppard, with a deep sigh, perceiving that her benefactor hesitated to pronounce the word. “Anna! What tragedy has happened, little sister? No lights, no supper, no coffee —and, above all, no Mr. Ascertaining that it was Sheppard of whom this concourse was in pursuit, the two horsemen leapt the hedge, and were presently close upon him. Then he had gone away. "But I wish her hand had been as deadly as yours.
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