From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. Mrs. Well, this is OUR thing. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. ” He fancied that she was yielding, but her eyes fell once more upon that fatal envelope, and her tone when she spoke was colder than ever. . ‘What are you after this time, miss?’ asked Jack. As she neared the bottom of the dip in Piccadilly she saw a woman approaching her from the opposite direction—a tall woman who at the first glance seemed altogether beautiful and fine.
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