Thames sprang to his feet, and half drew his sword, while Wood, removing his spectacles to assure himself that his eyes did not deceive him, exclaimed in a tone and with a look that betrayed the extremity of surprise—"Jack Sheppard!" "Jack Sheppard!" echoed the maid. The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. And they never talked of anything at all, never discussed, never even encouraged gossip. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty.
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