“What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. Whenever Jack attempted to speak, he was checked by an angry growl from Abraham; and Thames, though his heart was full almost to bursting, felt no inclination to break the silence. Escape was now impossible. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. If she kept on, would she make it out of the door? Then what? He could come after her before she could reach the secret passage.
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