John’s parents were won over. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. The tears were welling over now, but her voice was steady. No one spoke to her. ’ ‘Can’t say as I’m sorry to hear you say that, missie,’ confessed the sergeant, on a relieved note, as he locked the front door of the mansion and pocketed the key. Sir John once more looked around him. He could not tell whether she was English or American. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. He'd have enough to do to protect himself, without attending to you. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. And on Monday and Tuesday she had failed to find him here. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Pretend to weep both of you as loudly as you can.
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