But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. For what she lacked in appearance, Sheila compensated in gossip. "What are you waiting for?" asked Jack, impatiently. It was not human and yet very human, a high pitched wail of hunger that rattled her skull. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. They’re too free for their innocence or too innocent for their freedom.
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