She asked no further questions for the moment. "I am no man's mistress," answered the widow, crimsoning to her temples, but preserving her meek deportment, and humble tone. " "Can I have a word with you, master?" said Sheppard, approaching Wood. “How’d you know it was me?” He looked conspiratorially into the room for hidden informants. " So saying, he closed the lantern. There haven't been so many ladies in the Lodge since the days of Claude Du Val, the gentleman highwayman; and they all declare it'll break their hearts if he's scragged. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. See? Nothing really.
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