Sheppard, in a voice of agony. Yes. "I have a client who is very much interested in Mr. " "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. Buried under various ancestral sixteenths, smothered under modern thought, liberty of action and bewildering variety of flesh-pots, it was still alive to the extent that it needed only his present state to resuscitate it in all its peculiar force. He thrust out a rhetorical hand. “I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on.
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