While Jonathan was conversing with Austin, from whom he took care to conceal the fact of his having seen Sheppard since his escape, Ireton entered the Lodge. "Why, what the devil would you have had me do!—make myself scarce, eh? You should have tipped me the wink. As she stared her eyes grew accustomed to the night; and she discovered five persons instead of four. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. Sheppard, distractedly. Perhaps I ought not to; but this isn't a case to fiddle-faddle over.
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