A traffic of copious barges slumbered over the face of the river-barges either altogether stagnant or dreaming along in the wake of fussy tugs; and above circled, urbanely voracious, the London seagulls. He occupied one of the smaller houses near the station. Sheppard raised her eyes, and fixed them upon her interrogator. The real ‘Alcide’,” she wound up with a faint smile across the table at him, “is here. For the past four weeks mirrors had been her delight, a new toy. Only now it does not matter at all because Joan has come and has seen me.
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