265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door. And the woollen-draper departed. Sheppard, gently, "nor do I need any. Had to. Ireton," observed the chief turnkey of Westminster Gatehouse, as he helped himself to his third glass of punch; "but I never saw one like Jack Sheppard. " "Oh Heavens!" cried Jack, driven to his wits' end. So while he talked to this girl of work and freedom, his slightly protuberant eyes were noting the gracious balance of her limbs and body across the gate, the fine lines of her chin and neck. Ann Veronica hesitated with a question that had leaped up in her mind, and that she felt was cruel.
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