And Mr. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. "There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do. ” She brought her knees up to her chest, and rocked back and forth like a small child. “Silly!” he remarked after a pause. ” Anna nodded. How Jack Sheppard's Portrait was painted 385 XVII. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. Tell me that you are not sorry to see me again. Why do I want him so badly? Why do I want him, and think about him, and fail to get away from him? “It isn’t all of me. All the rest is humbug and delicacy. ” He dabbed with his paper-weight again, and spoke in an entirely indifferent tone.
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