With a moment of inward shame he remembered his deportment towards Anna. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. As a matter of fact it isn’t their affair. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. But they did what they could for her. Always remember that. No sooner had Trenchard crossed the threshold than a fierce barking was heard at the farther extremity of the passage, and, the next moment, a couple of mastiffs of the largest size rushed furiously towards him. "Where?" "That can wait," she answered. Sheppard's dress—extremely neat and clean, but simply fashioned, and of the plainest and most unpretending material,—offered nothing assailable; and her demeanour was so humble, and her looks so modest, that—if she had been ill-looking—she might, possibly, have escaped the shafts of malice preparing to be levelled against her. Sometimes he was obviously irritable and uncomfortable and unfortunate in his efforts to seem at ease. “She must look forward to Italy. He was as hard as a rock.
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