Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. I might add that in any case I should not touch Sir John’s. It was a serene and charming evening, and twilight was gently stealing over the face of the country. Sheppard made an effort to speak, but her voice was choked by emotion. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. We had not then recovered from the shock.
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