John Sheppard. After a brief conversation, which Sheppard sustained with his accustomed liveliness, the old man turned to Bess and addressed a few words of common-place gallantry to her. He opened the drawer of the writing table. "How have you managed to communicate with him?" Abraham, who had listened attentively to the foregoing conversation,—not a word of which escaped him,—now drew in his breath, and brought his ear closer to the boards. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. “The young lady, I presume, told you that her name was Anna,” he remarked.
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