"But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. ‘Stay, Saling!’ The butler halted, looking round enquiringly. Half an hour passed, but Jack did not make his appearance. But I am afraid I am a shockingly obstinate and a very ungrateful person. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. We have to hang about in the interval. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground.
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