"You're right Jack," he said, after a pause, during which he contemplated the picture with the most fixed attention: "this must have been my father!" "No doubt of it," answered Sheppard; "only compare it with Winny's drawing, and you'll find they're as like as two peas in a pod. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. The young man entered into a lively little war of words with a yellow-haired young person near the door. Like the flaws of an old marble. "I don't see how you do it, Hoddy. I’m going up to London with the Widgetts to that ball. "There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. ‘Am I a fool? Can I blow off a head with a pistol which is not loaded?’ ‘She has a point,’ conceded Alderley, relaxing a little as amusement burgeoned again ‘Ten to one she is a French spy,’ burst from Roding. The fact that it was her trusted friend making illicit love to her remained, in spite of all her effort, an insignificant thing in her mind. B.
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