Sheppard's dress—extremely neat and clean, but simply fashioned, and of the plainest and most unpretending material,—offered nothing assailable; and her demeanour was so humble, and her looks so modest, that—if she had been ill-looking—she might, possibly, have escaped the shafts of malice preparing to be levelled against her. He never said hello, as if it had become a personal taboo for him. Above the housetops it was different. " "Confusion!" thundered Wild. " "You'll never live to see that day," cried Blueskin, fixing a menacing look upon him. Undraw the curtain, love," she added to Thames, "that I may look at you. Anyhow, that is how things are. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon.
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