At length Jack Sheppard observed:—"The coast's clear. " "There isn't an angel in heaven, Ruth, purer or sweeter than you are. Jerking forward, she jabbed backwards. "Thanks to you," said the doctor. ” He made quite a long pause, and went on, with a sigh: “You have a voting paper given you—” They emerged into the publicity of the lawn. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door.
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