"Ay, ay," rejoined Sheppard; "he may do what he pleases,—hang me, if he thinks proper,—if you wish it. You simply can’t. And so gentle as the poor creature is, when she's not in her wild fits—it would melt a heart of stone to see her. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified.
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