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“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. “You appear,” she said, without any sign of anger in her tone, and with unruffled composure, “to be a very impertinent person. You want music. "Who, then?" demanded Jack. If she spoke to a policeman she did not know what would ensue. Would there be enough in the young man's envelope to pay the doctor and the hotel bill—and in the event of his death, enough to ship the body home? So all things pointed to the happy circumstance of setting this young fool upon his feet again, of seeing him hence upon his journey.
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