"Come, come, Jack," said Thames, walking up to Sheppard, and taking his hand, "have done with this. Jack Kimble. Was she a fool to wish a person of a disposition altogether not pleasing to marry her? Was it not true that he made a game with her very often? Had he not been extremely interfering from the beginning? And had he not kissed her, just when— Her thoughts skidded to a stop. They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. If it came at all, it was as fleeting as the girl's smile. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation.
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