She rested her head upon his shoulder. Sheppard, fervently. “Well——” She stopped short. "Your son's father was a thief; and Jonathan Wild (unless I'm misinformed,) was his friend,—so it's not unnatural he should show some partiality towards Jack. It was Annabel’s. " Not a little perplexed by the mysterious object she had seen, Rachel left the room, and, shortly afterwards returned with the materials of a tolerably good supper;—to wit, a couple of cold fowls, a tongue, the best part of a sirloin of beef, a jar of pickles, and two small dishes of pastry. The spectacle seemed to afford as much amusement to Jonathan as to the actors engaged in it. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. Slowly, he drew back his head and looked into her face. ’ Jack blinked. Pure romantic nonsense on her part.
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