What has become of the other?" "Why, surely you don't mean Jack Sheppard?" cried the woollen-draper in surprise. As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. The eminent painter had handsome, expressive features, an aquiline nose, and a good deal of dignity in his manner. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man.
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