"Well, you women are forgiving creatures, I must say," observed Jonathan, sarcastically. She was a swan among geese, trying to look plain and dowdy. Sheppard raised her eyes, and fixed them upon her interrogator. The poor widow was thrown into an agony of distress on learning that a robbery had been committed, in which her son (for she could not doubt that Jack was one of the boys,) was implicated; nor was her anxiety alleviated by Mrs. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. He nodded silently, too full for words.
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