The man’s passion was infectious. Sheppard, in a voice of agony. Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. Though scarcely two hours past midnight, it was perfectly light. What you would look upon as immorality is here merely an established custom, three thousand years older than Christianity, accepted with no more ado than that which would accompany you should you become a clerk in a shop. Sheppard. The child was now within reach; and, in another moment, he would have executed his deadly purpose, if an arm from behind had not felled him to the ground. But death is better for them, since they’re orphans now!” He screamed. His literary instincts began to stir. ‘Perhaps she don’t understand English,’ suggested Roding. ‘Merely making a useful contact.
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