"Spare him!" cried Mrs, Sheppard, who fancied she had made some impression on the obdurate breast of the thief-taker,—"spare him! and I will forgive you, will thank you, bless you. That is why I have dyed my hair, that is why I have abandoned my rôle of ingenuèe and altered my whole style of dress. This structure at once satisfied him as to where he stood. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. You want me to be clean. ‘Not where we’re going.
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