" "Oh, God!" cried Jack, "she does not know me. Ramage,” she said, “I can’t—Not now. "Ay, ay," rejoined Sheppard; "he may do what he pleases,—hang me, if he thinks proper,—if you wish it. Oh, cuss it!” “Eh?” “He said I would. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. Go and live somewhere else. Why had she married him, off-hand, like that? She did not love him, or he knew nothing of love signs. CHAPTER XXX. He probably imagines himself to be a thousand times worse off than he actually is.
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