Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. “I couldn’t help it. —I'll soon find you out. Sheppard's good health, and success to him!" Baptist's toast was received with loud applause, and, as he sat down amid the cheers of the company, and a universal clatter of mugs and glasses, the widow's view was no longer obstructed. She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. She pushed at the closer of the two soldiers bearing the precious burden. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. She reflected before answering.
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