‘Not yet, madame. ‘I thought it was his great-nephew, young Brewis Charvill, who is his heir. . Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. The white cloth was instantly dyed with crimson; but, regardless of this, Jonathan continued his murderous assault. His throat filled; he wanted to weep. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. Come along home, Ruth.
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