She felt a storm of emotion surging up within her. I received a telegram, as you know, during dinner. It was his mother, and as he gazed on her pallid features and motionless frame, Jack's heart severely smote him. Breakfast was laid for one, a dish of fruit and a shining coffee equipage. The house was redolent with the smells of cinnamon baking and the stuffed turkey and marinated pork roast. The subterranean level of the Diedermayer house was fully bedecked with every luxury known to mankind. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. I leaned over and looked at him—he was quite still.
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