" The caution was scarcely uttered, when the door opened, and Jack Sheppard presented himself. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. A disconcerting gray eye that had a mystifying depth. She was in deadly earnest in everything she did. She must not tell Martha about Gerald. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders. ‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. They reached Wimbledon, and Ramage whipped out to hand Miss Stanley to the platform as though she had been a duchess, and she descended as though such attentions from middle-aged, but still gallant, merchants were a matter of course.
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