" "Poor Jack!" exclaimed Thames. "Before to-morrow morning I will ascertain what has become of Thames, or perish in the attempt. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. " "Don't listen to him, father," cried Thames, unconscious of what was passing; "there are plenty of people outside.
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