"Because it's not like you," was her answer. " "Then I owe my life to her?" "Positively. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. "To shoot you would be to lose the reward. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. This key," he added, taking it from the boy, "was purloined from me by your father, Jack. Remember, some day you and I are going to have that book. He then unfolded his choice and held it before her face. The thought of going back!—the thought of the unknown out there!—" with a tragic gesture toward the east. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. ‘But I’m hanged if I know why you find it so amusing. “Ass!” he went on, still warming.
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