Ireton," cried Jack, in accents of the most urgent entreaty, "before you take me hence, I implore you—if you would further the ends of justice—search this house. My Mom inherited our house from our Grandma, otherwise they never could have afforded it, not even twenty years ago. As Jack conjectured, no one was there, and, though a lamp was burning on a stand, they decided upon proceeding without it. The end of the world seemed at hand. I don’t want to Bowdlerize Shakespeare. Sheppard had been interred. “No, stay, Lucy. She was surprised at his modesty. He reached for her chin and lifted it up.
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