Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette. Mr. XII JACK SHEPPARD A Romance BY W. “And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. F. Cosette sat under the table, still as a mouse, fondling her pitiful doll. There was nothing to be got out of the man. She shrugged her shoulders. Thinking of Mantua, she wandered to the courtyard. " "Mad as you are, you're the more sensible of the two, I must say," rejoined Jonathan.
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