” So they talked on whilst supper was served, falling easily into the spirit of the place, and yet both of them conscious of some new thing underlying the gaiety of their tongues and manner. That boy was the carpenter's apprentice, Jack Sheppard. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. She put her mouth on him. And you talk like that! What the devil have you been up to, to land in this bog?" It was a cast at random. You see I am rather obstinate. She ought to have leapt back on guard. He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. “Most of it is ugly and frowsy,” she declared, “but it isn’t worth talking about.
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