. . "Ah!" exclaimed Jack, starting to his feet. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. ‘I must get a handkerchief. “Your sex is a terrible fraud. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world.
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