" "He must," exclaimed Jack, hastily; "but only let me have it till to-morrow, and if I don't entrap him in a snare from which, with all his cunning, he shall find it difficult to escape, my name's not Jack Sheppard. As to the picture, I'll keep it myself, though, if you do go I shall need no memorial of you. Haven’t I shown you over and over again that I mean you no harm? What do I have to do?’ ‘You can go away and leave me to my affairs,’ she threw at him. ” “I hope that you may,” Anna answered enigmatically. ” “Where?” Courtlaw asked quickly. Women are made like the potter’s vessels —either for worship or contumely, and are withal fragile vessels. So I dare say I was christened Jack. She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. "To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. Finally she fell into reflection. He shrieked with agony, and clung with desperate tenacity to the roughened stones.
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