” “It’s impossible. "Your answer!" cried Sheppard. ‘You’re the most troublesome wretch I’ve ever encountered,’ he told her bitterly. Do you know how late it is?” She nodded. She hesitated, and for a moment thought of omitting her second verse altogether. "I don't understand you, gentlemen," stammered he, at length. It was bleeding again. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn.
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