In worldly matters Gay was not fortunate. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. “Your affectionate “FATHER. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. At this juncture, and just as a cuckoo-clock in the corner struck sis, Jack Sheppard walked into the room, with the packing-case under his arm. Still, one never could tell. ’ *** Martha sniffed dolefully, scrubbing at her reddened eyes with a large square of damp linen.
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