“I’ve been looking out for you,” he said. " Trenchard took up a pen. ’ ‘I don’t even know your granddaughter, ma’am. ” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch. "I leave this bowl for you," he cried, returning it to the landlord untasted. The next moment he was by her side. Sheppard was no sooner alone than she fell upon her knees by the side of the couch, and poured forth her heart in prayer. She wanted to return his gaze but focused intently on a spot next to and above the brick fireplace, as her music teachers had always taught her to do instead of looking directly at the audience.
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