The summons was instantly answered by a shop-boy. “They seem smaller, you know, even physically smaller,” she said. "Have you sent off the note?" inquired Jack. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. “I’m not a good woman. . ” “Two words only,” Hill repeated.
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