" "Accident or not," rejoined Sheppard; "you're no longer pall of mine. "Why, first," rejoined Austin, "there's Sir James Thornhill, historical painter to his Majesty, and the greatest artist of the day. Then she cursed herself for his eyes went to the letter and came back to her face. But a little daughter is one thing and a daughter quite another. We just hit against each other, and here we are flying off at a tangent, a little surprised at what we are doing, all our principles abandoned, and tremendously and quite unreasonably proud of ourselves. " "Jack, my love," cried Mrs.
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