"Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. It could not be she who had done this. \"May I come in?\" His bravado was increasing. On his way he made a slight divergence from the direct route and paused for a moment outside the flat where Anna was now living. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. Don't you understand? Back among your own again, and only a few of us the wiser. “I’m ready,” said Ann Veronica, closing her microscope-box with a click, and looking for one brief instant up the laboratory.
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