At this juncture, a cry was raised by a servant from below, that the robbers were flying through the garden. "Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. The burden of decision had been transferred. It is not for myself I fear. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. "Can't you see? I can't hurt her, if … if she cares! I can't tell her I'm a madman as well as a thief!… What a fool! What a fool!" A thief. She clasped her hands over her mouth in a silent scream. ” “What did you say?” “I said, ‘My dear Veronica! how can you think of such things?’” “And then?” “She had two more cups of tea and some cake, and told me of her walk. You know that I am practically destitute, without means or any certain knowledge of where my next meal is coming from.
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