Lassitude?” “I suppose so. ” Anna had reached the house where she lodged, but she hesitated on the doorstep. He had heard nothing. Fear nothing. My poor son despairs of me, for I have primed every member of the family to bring me the latest novels whenever they choose to visit. But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her. "I do," replied Sheppard. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. ‘What did you do with the portrait then? Not that I suppose it is much use any longer. Well, after all, he seemed to be turning the subject. ‘Now then, my lad, you’re under arrest you are. But he was now too deeply moved to trace a certain unsatisfactoriness to its source in a mixture of metaphors.
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