XII JACK SHEPPARD A Romance BY W. E. It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it. “What ought you to do?” “I’ve hunted up all sorts of things. ” The conversation hung for a moment. "Some one must have assisted him. He walked with bent head. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. I asked you to go. I tried to get across the terrace and onto the bridge to introduce myself, but the crowds did not part and I lost you. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers.
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