"What's that you're saying about Jack Sheppard?" she cried. It was Annabel who spoke. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. " "I've just bethought me of a crib as'll serve their turn," interposed Sharples, "at any rate, they'll be out o' the vay, and as safe as two chicks in a coop. I did not care—no woman really cares—to play the beggar maid to your King Cophetua. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately.
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