” “It was a mistake,” she faltered. But the letter, written in his son’s own hand, and addressed to the Mother Abbess of the Convent of the Sisters of Wisdom near Blaye in the district of Santonge, dated a little over five years previously, exercised a powerful effect upon him. He hated himself a little for it. ’ ‘Damnation!’ Gerald burst out, crossing towards her. But at the same time, I must say plainly that I think your presence here just now would be a great misfortune. Finding it impossible to descend on any side, without incurring serious risk, Jack resolved to return for his blanket, by the help of which he felt certain of accomplishing a safe landing on the roof of the house in Giltspur Street. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy.
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