CHAPTER XVII. “At a boarding-house?” he gasped. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. Sheppard's time it was even more beautiful than at present, when the hand of improvement has proceeded a little too rashly with alterations and repairs. And, in spite of the boy's resistance, he plunged his hands into his pockets, and drew forth the miniature. “Ye Gods!” she said at last. "Where am I to take it to?" asked Sheppard. One glance swept across the place and it was immediately apparent that Pottiswick had not, this time, been mistaken.
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