"It's like enough, I dare say," rejoined Sheppard. . “You and Anna,” she said, “seem to have stumbled upon a mare’s nest. She bound a scarf tightly round the place where the blood seemed to be coming from. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. By and by he gathered enough courage to lean toward her. Leonardo had not taught her to do so. She wondered even at this late day how she had been able to hold her maddening curiosity in check. Think! You could not have done it. She stared. There was once a philanthropist who dressed with shameful shabbiness and carried pearls in his pocket.
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