Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. I tell you what, Mr. Darrell. “Ass!” he went on, still warming. They are mine! They were sent to ‘Alcide’ not to you. Sheppard," rejoined Winifred kindly. The whole incident was so unexpected that neither Courtlaw nor Brendon were awaiting.
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