Who walked you home?\" Mike asked her, his voice tinged with jealousy, as she passed the garlic bread. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. If only this child were his: what good times they would have together! The thought passed on, but it left a little ache in his heart. ‘What is it?’ ‘Er—shouldn’t I tell—I mean, the young lady, sir—’ ‘You can leave the young lady to me. The morning of Monday the 16th of November 1724 at length dawned.
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