Always her prayers ended—'And may my beautiful mother guide me!' No. Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. Some indeed carried themselves, dressed themselves even, rather as foreign visitors from the land of “Looking Backward” and “News from Nowhere” than as the indigenous Londoners they were. It was easy to recognize, the one thing that had stayed the same over the years. Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society.
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