Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. Never for a moment had violence come between these two since long ago he had, in spite of her mother’s protest in the background, carried her kicking and squalling to the nursery for some forgotten crime. It was immediately opened by a man with light eyelashes and a manner suggestive of restrained passion. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. I trust you will not accuse me of discourtesy if I express my pleasure that henceforth our ways will lie apart. . ” She had spoken rather rapidly. Miss Stanley had determined from the outset to have the warmest affection for her youngest niece and to be a second mother in her life—a second and a better one; but she had found much to battle with, and there was much in herself that Ann Veronica failed to understand. But calmer thoughts quickly succeeded.
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