"Beg pardon, Sir Rowland," said the attendant, "but there's a boy from Mr. Sheppard. In a side-glance—for the floor was variously encumbered with overturned objects—he saw one of his paper weights, a coloured glass ball such as McClintock used in trade. It's my way when I'm ruffled. So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. "I generally do," replied Blueskin, pouring out a bumper of sack. “Loneliness,” she said, “is a luxury which I never permit myself. Mother and Son. But I’d have done it without, though it weren’t my place.
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