"Ay, ay," rejoined Sheppard; "he may do what he pleases,—hang me, if he thinks proper,—if you wish it. “Annabel at last,” he shouted. He seemed to be hesitating between two courses of action. ” “Ugh! That poor girl! What a horrible guy! Did he?” “Yeah, it was his. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. "I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. " "Ah," said Spurlock; "that kind of a man. Mind, when we were all growed up, it were different.
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