"I don't know what I think," Wood answered sulkily; and he bent his eyes upon the water, as if he wished to avert his attention forcibly from the scene. Telling the porter that he would attend to the house himself, he bade him go in search of Jack Sheppard. He drew compellingly upon his new characters to keep him out of this melancholy channel; but they ebbed and ebbed; he could not hold them. Anna took up the pen, and signed, after a moment’s hesitation, A. Never mind. Suffer me to precede you. Into one of these he waded and rolled and rolled, despite her commands. The Northern Ocean keeps a secret better than the Thames, Sir Rowland.
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