But it looked as if the boy was not going to be of much use. "I've done no more than my duty, Mrs. “Oh, damn!” he said. He stared at her stupidly, forgetting to guard against the tactics he had come to expect from her. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it. Then abruptly Mr. Her fingers closed upon it instinctively. Here it is. How Jack Sheppard's Portrait was painted. A shiver slid down inside her. She was a large, resilient girl, with a foolish smile, a still more foolish expression of earnestness, and a throaty contralto voice.
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