Only a son’s another story. ” Lucy answered, disturbed at how rehearsed the apology sounded. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed. During this colloquy, Jack had contrived unobserved to put on the hood and cloak, and being about the size of the rightful owner, presented a very tolerable resemblance to her. The chamber, into which he stole, like all carpenters' workshops, was crowded with the implements and materials of that ancient and honourable art.
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