It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. The house was invisible from the road, and yet enormous once within view. ‘Though he didn’t mean it. Michelle helped her mother clear the table and Lucy thanked her for the meal. The room they were in was a sort of closet, with the door locked outside; but this was only a moment's obstacle to Jack, who with a chisel forced back the bolt. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. If I don't, you shall clap me in the Condemned Hold in his stead. ‘Do not be foolish. It’s just upon my lunch-time.
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