Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. Thus died Jack Sheppard. “Lucy, you have to play for us after dinner, oh please. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. ‘And what the devil do you mean by demanding that I wait on you here? D’you think I haven’t enough to do handling that caper-witted female’s affairs, without dancing attendance on you?’ ‘Don’t be cross,’ begged Lucilla, much to Melusine’s disgust. Don’t be afraid that I shall stunt it. “Thank you—for coming,” he said. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch.
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