CHAPTER I. . . It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharples that the carpenter and his companion could gain admittance to the round-house. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. “You should probably wash all of that stuff off of yourself. You don’t have to have a lot of money to have your own style. Sheppard. She heard them diving after her, and noted their starting eyes as they spied the opened panel. Wood. ‘Maman?’ ‘How touching,’ said a sarcastic voice behind her in French. “You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. ’ ‘Get rid of the wench,’ Roding said brutally.
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