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Sheppard's dress—extremely neat and clean, but simply fashioned, and of the plainest and most unpretending material,—offered nothing assailable; and her demeanour was so humble, and her looks so modest, that—if she had been ill-looking—she might, possibly, have escaped the shafts of malice preparing to be levelled against her. She kept trying to shut her legs, to stop the baby from coming out. The law would accord her all her previous rights: she would return to the exact status out of which in his madness he had taken her. ‘Well, only look what’s come of it. Do you know how late it is?” She nodded. I figured it would hurt your feelings if you knew I still talked to him, so I kept my mouth shut.
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