In after years, some pitying hand supplied the inscription, which ran thus— JACK SHEPPARD THE END. This path, bordered on each side by high privet hedges of the most beautiful green, soon brought them to a stile. ‘It will suit me very well that you go away, because you are a person without sense and I do not wish to talk to you. “Don’t know me, eh? I like that. Quite soon, after we were married—it was just within a year—I formed a friendship with the wife of a friend, a woman eight years older than myself. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble. “Eight pounds,” she plunged, and added foolishly, “fifteen pounds will see me clear of everything.
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