" "How?" "Listen to me, Thames. And, as he was about to put himself into a posture of defence, his mother clasped him in her arms. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. The stipendiary would have done it all very differently. It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence. Sheppard!" sighed Winifred, as she contemplated the beautiful wreck before her,—"Poor Mrs. So Ruth found that for a while her eyes were free. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters.
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