Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. She began to weep in long, aching sobs. Only a book detective could dope this out. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. God had never answered any of her prayers. “Steady on!” he cried. But, uttering a loud cry, he was swept away by the headlong torrent. "Go to the Iron Hold, Austin, and tell two of the partners to bring another padlock of the largest size, and the heaviest handcuffs they can find.
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