A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. “I wonder,” she said, “how much you care. I've watched this lad—this Sheppard—from infancy; and, though I have apparently concerned myself little about him, I have never lost sight of my purpose. Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. " "The pianist?" "Yes.
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