"Now, Jack," cried Thames, warmly grasping Sheppard's hand, "you are my friend again. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey. The tall, blond boys, right?” “That’s them. Sheppard's house, loud yells and vociferations reached his ears; and, looking downwards, he perceived a great stir amid the mob. “I’ll be hanged if I do. Is it an old ring?” he asked, returning it. She hesitated about her name, and, being prompted, gave it at last as Ann Veronica Smith, 107A, Chancery Lane. She wondered when her tormentors would simply lose interest now that Katy had been discovered and suspended. She had a vision of policemen, reproving magistrates, a crowded court, public disgrace.
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