Sheppard, as a storm of furious voices resounded from below, and torches were seen mounting the stairs; "they are coming!—they are coming!—fly!—to the roof! to the roof. ’ Mrs Ibstock’s lips tightened and she looked away a moment. ” “Anything except that,” he murmured. “I’ve been playing since I was five, Lucy! You’re just more talented than I am. If you don’t think it would be a social outrage, perhaps I might walk with you to your railway station. “What are your objections?” she said. Sheppard found it; and, as no one opposed her, she at once took up her abode there; nor was she long in discovering that the dreaded sounds proceeded from the nocturnal gambols of a legion of rats. You must—you shall be mine.
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