A little exclamation of surprise escaped Ennison. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. Brendon’s guests,” she said, “and I scarcely think it would be nice of me to leave him alone with Sydney. I have found you. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. ‘Don’t be silly. Did he not look for her in the morning when she entered—come very quickly to her? She thought of him as she had last seen him looking down the length of the laboratory to see her go. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. "Your son's father was a thief; and Jonathan Wild (unless I'm misinformed,) was his friend,—so it's not unnatural he should show some partiality towards Jack. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. Kneebone,—pray go!" implored Winifred.
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