“I will not rob you of your coffee, most dutiful of sisters!” she exclaimed. You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal. I sha'n't cry any more. He reached out a hand gropingly, sagged, and toppled out of the chair to the floor, where he lay very still. Other phrases returned now, like echoes. Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. Nowhere could he see that reaching, menacing Hand. And yet, on the very site of the sordid tenements and squalid courts we have mentioned, where the felon openly made his dwelling, and the fraudulent debtor laughed the object of his knavery to scorn—on this spot, not two centuries ago, stood the princely residence of Charles Brandon, the chivalrous Duke of Suffolk, whose stout heart was a well of honour, and whose memory breathes of loyalty and valour. Sheppard. He stood up, apparently intending to put an arm about her, but she stepped back from him quickly.
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