‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. A new restlessness seemed to have stolen in upon her. "So did I," answered Jack; "we had better move on. Mr. I know what I am doing better than you do. He was beautiful and perfect, his blue eyes smiling at her. " "Thank'ee, Sir," grinned Sheppard. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea.
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