But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. There was no response. Pragmar probably knew Mr. Find your man, that’s the rule. Sheppard trembled violently; and though she understood his meaning too well, she answered,—"I can't guess. There's a friend of Sir James—a young man, an engraver of masquerade tickets and caricatures,—his name I believe is Hogarth. Austin," continued the tapstress; "he's only going on an errand.
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