At this place of refuge, situated in the heart of Wapping, near the river-side, he arrived in less than an hour, in a complete state of exhaustion. "Help!—help, Mr. Sheppard; "most fortunate for me. ‘Here she is. Maggot. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. We begin rehearsing on Monday at the ‘Garrick’. " "I shall require them as well," rejoined Sheppard; "and your boots.
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