"My son," she murmured, wringing her hands piteously—, "my son the companion of thieves! My son in Jonathan Wild's power! It cannot be. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. She attempted by a sheer act of will to end the scene, to will herself out of it anywhere. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. And afterwards! Sir John drew his cigar from his lips, and looked upwards where the white-lights flashed strangely amongst the deep cool green of the lime-trees. I tell you, that girl would jump into the sea, rather. He was indeed still in the throes of his bewilderment.
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