At length Jack Sheppard observed:—"The coast's clear. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. She had never dreamed of such decadence, never imagined that young people could be so happy and healthy. “There is my aunt,” she said. In the upper hall he paused to listen. He must fight the thought continually, day in and day out. I want to get away—to go to London. “I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all.
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