Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. To the Seven Cities of Refuge Jack proceeded. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers. “But—your people!” she gasped. “How I am to earn enough sous for my dinner to-morrow—or failing that, what I can sell. She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. "May I be cursed," muttered Sheppard, as he slunk away with (as the woollendraper pleasantly observed) 'a couple of boxes in charge,' "if ever I try to be honest again!" "Take a little toasted cheese with the swig, Mr.
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