Sheppard, if you please, Ma'am," interrupted the lad; "I allow nobody to call me Jack. When about to retire to rest, the rencounter with Jack Sheppard again recurred to him, and he half blamed himself for not acquainting Mr. Thames Darrell MUST die. " Neither spinster noticed the reluctance in the tones. Challenge accepted. One of these, a lady, evidently a confirmed invalid, and attired in deep mourning, reclined upon a sort of couch, or easy chair, set on wheels, with her head supported by cushions, and her feet resting upon a velvet footstool. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street.
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