A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. ‘I am not French in the least, bête. ’ ‘I would have done, only you threatened to blow off my head,’ Gerald reminded her, laughing. Ran in the family. He seemed to be labouring under some great excitement. She assumed with a kind of mesmeric force all the propositions that Ann Veronica wanted her to define. The discourse, then, turned to Darrell's old playmate, Jack Sheppard; and Mr. "My portrait!" echoed Jack.
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