“Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. "You can no longer refuse to tell me the name of this youth's father, Aliva," he said. He himself had deadened the sound by closing the door. She advanced, stabbing at him. The signs of tears had all gone, but some subtle change seemed to have stolen into her face. "You'd better surrender quietly, Jack," he cried; "you've no chance. Wood was an old friend of mine—and I recollect seeing Jack when he was bound 'prentice to him. Sheppard. ” His voice assumed an easy detached tone. Lucy’s cool.
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