Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. A pair of startled blue eyes looked up into his. "Is this Jack Sheppard? Oh, la! I'm undone! We shall all have our throats cut! Oh! oh!" And she rushed, screaming, into the passage where she fell down in a fit. After all, it came to him suddenly as a harsh discovery that she might be in a sense regarded as grownup. Jack had brought away the bunch of keys which he had taken from Quilt Arnold, but, none of them would open it. He had deliberately saved it for last.
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