There were moments when she doubted whether the whole mass of movements and societies and gatherings and talks was not simply one coherent spectacle of failure protecting itself from abjection by the glamour of its own assertions. Sheppard, with a look, the wildness of which greatly alarmed her companion. He reached over and took her hand. “Dear John,” she whispered. " "I don't require it," returned Sheppard. By his side sat a remarkably stout dame, to whom he paid as much attention as it was in his iron nature to pay. Their example was immediately imitated by the officers, constables, javelin men, and other attendants; and nothing was to be heard but shouts of laughter and jesting,—nothing seen but the passing of glasses, and the emptying of foaming jugs. If Jack Sheppard could behold his mother in this state, he'd have a lesson he'd never forget—ay, and a severer one than even the hangman could read him. It's my way when I'm ruffled. Twice she smiled, but not unkindly.
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