Sheppard,—"pray let me go. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. Ah! how I wish, poor dear Sir Cecil were alive! he'd keep him in order. Supposing you fetch what you can, and if you will allow me, I will see you off. "Pah! He's a fool. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips.
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