“Why are you so distant? Why all the mystery? What are you, a narc? Double-oh-seven or something?” She steeled herself, refusing to react. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. "What did you ring for, Sir?" she asked, eyeing the group with astonishment. Least of all myself. Starting off at a rapid pace, Jack dashed down Turnagain-lane, skirted the eastern bank of Fleet-ditch, crossed Holborn Bridge, and began to ascend the neighbouring hill. CHAPTER XXII.
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