This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. Her eyes were wide open with amazement. Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. Saint Giles's Round-house. \"I guess so. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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