It was not only Leonardo who had instilled in her this distrust of men. She fled. Sheppard's dress—extremely neat and clean, but simply fashioned, and of the plainest and most unpretending material,—offered nothing assailable; and her demeanour was so humble, and her looks so modest, that—if she had been ill-looking—she might, possibly, have escaped the shafts of malice preparing to be levelled against her. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. ‘Dunderhead. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet. "Your worry is needless. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself.
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