It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. The man lingered. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. When she reflected that Mr. Sheppard," rejoined Winifred, controlling her emotion, and speaking as cheerfully as she could; "I would do anything in the world for you, and so would my father, and so would Thames; but he ought, for he's your nephew, you know. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. " "Then we won't even show you that mercy," retorted the thief-taker brutally.
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