Lucy paced outside of the stone bricked room until her mother began to scream. “You know what? You’re right. ‘But you said—’ Gerald tutted. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels. Hell's curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped. All the king's horses and all the king's men could not undo what was done; nor kill the strange exquisite flower that had grown up in his own lonely heart.
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