"My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind. The poor child! What frightful things she must have seen on that island of hers! The noise of crashing glass caused a diversion; and Ruth turned gratefully toward the sound. A pretty piece. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. Thus died Jack Sheppard.
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