You'd better lose no time. A woman touched him lightly on the arm, and smiled into his face. Sheppard's dress—extremely neat and clean, but simply fashioned, and of the plainest and most unpretending material,—offered nothing assailable; and her demeanour was so humble, and her looks so modest, that—if she had been ill-looking—she might, possibly, have escaped the shafts of malice preparing to be levelled against her. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. His hair is oddly streaked with gray —I might say a dishonourable gray. "At my first being acquainted with the place," says this writer, in the 'Miseries of a Prison,' "the prisoners, methought, walking up and down the Stone Hall, looked like so many wrecks upon the sea.
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