"Ay, ay," rejoined Sheppard; "he may do what he pleases,—hang me, if he thinks proper,—if you wish it. The clerk at the Raffles Hotel had accorded her but scant interest. Sepulchre's church, and hurrying down Snow Hill, darted into the first turning on the left. He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. Diable. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. ‘Housebreaking, Hilary? I take the matter of housebreaking very seriously, I’ll have you know. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station.
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