Seeing provisions in the window, Jack ventured in and bought a loaf. What of madame, his wife?’ ‘You know more of her than me,’ the girl said with a look of scorn. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound. Sheppard returned no answer. “One moment, if you please!” She stopped short and looked round. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. . In a moment his grasp grew weaker.
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