" "Heaven have compassion on you, Rowland!" murmured his sister, crossing her hands and looking upwards; "you have none on me. " A peculiar smile illuminated Jack's features. She searched for it for many days that stretched into weeks before she gave up. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. "Back!" he cried fiercely. “It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. Perceiving he was about to take leave, Kneebone ventured to ask whom he had had the honour of addressing. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. She moaned as she touched him.
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