How Jack Sheppard attended his Mother's Funeral. His kind eyes were puffy with fatigue. Sheppard, you mean, Sir," interrupted his wife, ironically. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. How I envied Gianfrancesco on his wedding night, how I writhed in agony just thinking 171 about his intimacies with you! Then you became pregnant, and there he was, posturing and gloating like the rest of the family, my divinations of a boy in your womb pronounced. Voilà tout. I would even have taken a place as waitress in a tea shop. Miss Mary and me, and Martha too sometimes. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig.
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