"What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. Ann Veronica had come down thinking of nothing in the world but her inflexible resolution to go to the dance in the teeth of all opposition. “I do not lay claim,” he continued, “to any remarkable amount of insight, but it is possible, is it not, that I have stumbled upon your present cause of distress. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. ” He looked into her pale blue eyes. How Jack Sheppard attended his Mother's Funeral 435 XXVII.
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