"I was," answered Sheppard. “It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall. Most of the vessels lying in the river were driven from their moorings, dashed tumultuously against each other, or blown ashore. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. I can’t rest or work or settle down to anything while things are like this between you and me. Half a minute, Vee. We have that gift. It began in the eyes and spread to the lips: warm, embracing, even fatherly.
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