Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. " "Then this is not my child?" exclaimed she, with increased astonishment. “As she asked!” “It is already too late. ‘Soi-disant? Then he is not Valade?’ ‘How can I know?’ she countered crossly. Unless—would he hide from them as he had hidden from her? It was a big house, he said. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction.
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