Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. From this sorrowful state he was aroused by a loud derisive whistle, followed by a still louder laugh; and, looking up, he beheld the impudent countenance of Jack Sheppard immediately before him. Gossip was the driving force in Sheila’s existence. “I have had a trying evening and I need rest. I did not know what I was saying. Perhaps Sir John is going to take the other one under his wing. As Mrs. People of your sort—I don’t want the instincts to—to rush our situation.
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