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"Now, then, Saint Giles!" interposed Sheppard, "are we to be kept here all night?" "Eh day!" exclaimed Sharples: "wot new-fledged bantam's this?" "One that wants to go to roost," replied Sheppard. It takes too many years to climb even a step in the social ladder. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. By following her he had discovered her secret nook in the rocks. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. In Darrell's open features, frankness and honour were written in legible characters; while, in Jack's physiognomy, cunning and knavery were as strongly imprinted. We shall have a reg'lar squall afore we gets across.
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