He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. She could not help thinking of Capes. “My dad is into this stuff. Sheppard. " Not a little perplexed by the mysterious object she had seen, Rachel left the room, and, shortly afterwards returned with the materials of a tolerably good supper;—to wit, a couple of cold fowls, a tongue, the best part of a sirloin of beef, a jar of pickles, and two small dishes of pastry. No doubt they've all been rejected; but he couldn't throw them overboard. I believe—I believe that I must risk it. They hissed me!” “Beasts!” he muttered.
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