She had trembled on the verge of such a resolution before, but this time quite definitely she made it. “Your mother was a Gypsy. To Capes he was almost deferential, and she had never seen him deferential in the old time, never. For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds. It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. Nothing disheartened by this survey, Jack set to work upon the lock, which he attacked with all his implements;—now attempting to pick it with the nail;— now to wrench it off with the bar: but all without effect. I—listen. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere.
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