And it’s no good pretending there is one when there isn’t. "Coming!—so is midnight—so is Jonathan Wild," retorted Jack, with a significant look at Thames. He looked distant, irritated. But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them.
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