" Roused by this reflection, filled with the deepest anxiety for his mother, and burning to be avenged upon Jonathan Wild, he grasped the iron bar, which, when he sat down, he had laid upon his knees, and stepped quickly across the room. “But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. But Jack eluded their grasp. She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. I asked him why, and he hadn’t a reason.
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