Here he set down the lamp, and took out a key, and as he did so the expression of his countenance was so atrocious, that Jack felt assured he was not wrong in his suspicions. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. “Under the Wilde Frau—which was named after you. As he anticipated, he was here comparatively screened from the fury of the wind; and when he gazed upon the roaring fall beneath him, visible through the darkness in a glistening sheet of foam, his heart overflowed with gratitude for his providential deliverance.
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