"I could almost find in my heart to quarrel with Jack Sheppard for occasioning you so much pain," observed little Winifred Wood, as, having completed her ministration to the best of her ability, she helped Thames on with his coat. Instead of English villas and cottages there were chalets and Italian-built houses shining white; there were lakes of emerald and sapphire and clustering castles, and such sweeps of hill and mountain, such shining uplands of snow, as she had never seen before. It would be difficult to find another human being subjected to so many angles of attack as Spurlock. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. He had reacted by pushing her away, disgust and frustration on his face.
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