Sheppard let fall her basket. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. ’ ‘Lord, man, it’s only a scratch!’ Suddenly Gerald snapped his fingers. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. Everything proclaimed the mischievous propensities of the recent occupants of the chamber. From her stomacher, to which it was attached by a multitude of glittering steel chains, depended an immense turnip-shaped watch, in a pinchbeck case. ’ A sudden thought brought a frown to her brow. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone.
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