Listen, Jack. The boy was right. He glanced at Miss Klegg again, and spoke quickly and furtively, with eager eyes on Ann Veronica’s face. I didn’t believe him and I said so. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. Taking his new purchase under his arm, Jack proceeded to a small tavern in the same street, where, having ordered dinner, he went to a bed-room to attire himself. An iron fillet secured the socket of the bolt and the box of the lock to the main post of the doorway. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. And this was an adventure of which he had dreamed from boyhood: aboard a windjammer on the South Seas.
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