" "Faix, then we'll do it in style," cried the fellow. Sheppard raised her eyes, and fixed them upon her interrogator. " "A miniature! Of whom?" "That I can't say," replied Jack, mysteriously. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. But Spurlock was ever on guard, even when she fussed over his hair. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes. Petals!.
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