"No"—as if her thoughts were elsewhere. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. It has been already intimated that Jack had an excessive passion for finery; and it might have been added, that the chief part of his ill-gotten gains was devoted to the embellishment of his person. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. "No, Rollo; not this afternoon. A sinister thought edged in. If I were a clean, free man—We’ll have to talk of all these things. Sheppard, he turned to quit the churchyard. One must be on guard.
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