’ ‘Are we to infer that he had a choice?’ enquired Gerald. Sheppard, pressing her hand to her temples. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. This was a much more serious task than he anticipated. Later in the evening she heard him whistling, poor man! She felt very restless and excited. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. He looked no longer at his wife. E. Sheppard, with a look, the wildness of which greatly alarmed her companion.
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