Even if he were an old friend, you couldn't afford to do it. Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. She did not understand the note of hostility to men that ran through it all, the bitter vindictiveness that lit Miss Miniver’s cheeks and eyes, the sense of some at last insupportable wrong slowly accumulated. Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion in the thief-taker's inexorable countenance,—"Mercy! mercy!" "Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan. I think too much about myself. Sheppard.
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