“Nothing was ever done,” Miss Brett asserted, “without a certain element of Faith. His chin was angular and his lips were 16 small, his mouth tiny and refined. After all, it came to him suddenly as a harsh discovery that she might be in a sense regarded as grownup. He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. Her father held some printed document in his hand, and appeared not to observe her entry. Turning quickly round, in the hope of discovering the thief, he was no less surprised than distressed—for in spite of his faults, the woollen-draper was a good-natured fellow—to perceive Jack Sheppard in custody. The hansom drove off.
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