The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. "I didn't mean to give offence," replied Sheppard, sulkily. Then her head disappeared suddenly in her hands, and her shoulders shook violently. Her defence ceased rapidly to be in any sense ladylike, and became vigorous and effective; a strand of black hair that had escaped its hairpins came athwart Ramage’s eyes, and then the knuckles of a small but very hardly clinched fist had thrust itself with extreme effectiveness and painfulness under his jawbone and ear. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. She was given a glimpse of his soul. ‘She’s gone.
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