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"I could almost find in my heart to quarrel with Jack Sheppard for occasioning you so much pain," observed little Winifred Wood, as, having completed her ministration to the best of her ability, she helped Thames on with his coat. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. "I suppose it didn't drop through the ceiling, did it? Are you quite sure it's flesh and blood?" asked he, playfully pinching its arm till it cried out with pain. It would be useless to tell her to go back, even heartless; and yet he could not advise her to go on, blindly, not knowing whether her aunt was dead or alive. That is why I ask you. “Thank you. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. “Too bad to keep you waiting,” Annabel exclaimed. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street.
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