"I didn't mean to give offence," replied Sheppard, sulkily. "But, let me tell you, it's not a pleasant sight to see the girl one likes in the arms of another."
"You want another drubbing, I perceive," said Thames, frowning.
"No, I don't. Enough's as good as a feast of the dainties you provide. I'll think no more about her. Save us!" he cried, as his glance accidentally alighted on the drawing, which Winifred had dropped in her agitation. "Is this her work?"
"It is," answered Thames. "Do you see any likeness?"
"Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. "Strange!" he continued, as if talking to himself. "How very like it is!"
"Not so strange, surely," laughed Thames, "that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended."
"Ay, but it is strange how much it resembles somebody for whom it's not intended. It's exactly like a miniature I have in my pocket."
"A miniature! Of whom?"
"That I can't say," replied Jack, mysteriously. "But, I half suspect, of your father."
"My father!" exclaimed Thames, in the utmost astonishment; "let me see it!"