‘It is nothing at all of the kind. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Your life is like a funeral March. "I shall like to call you that. In spite of all this, he grew daily better and stronger, and his spirits revived. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. This service rendered, without waiting for any farther order, she withdrew. She was wholly unable to conceal her knowledge of his presence. Old Bedlam 291 IX. Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch.
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