. . The young rascal had learnt from some of the women-servants that Lady Trafford was from home, and was in the very act of making off when I got down stairs. “Nothing. "Wretch!" she cried, "you shall not force me to your hateful purpose. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. "He ought to do, seeing that he served his apprenticeship in it to Mr. Wood," said the lady bridling up, "my request may, perhaps, have some weight with you. Sheppard, faintly. Lady Trafford uttered a prolonged scream, and fainted.
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