"Tell him that I—his adopted son, Thames Darrell— am detained here by Jonathan Wild. Oh, Heavens; that I should have ever indulged a hope of happiness while that terrible man lives!" "Compose yourself, Joan," said Wood; "all will yet be well. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. ‘That rascally knave sent you to become a French nun?’ Looking positively terrified, the girl nodded dumbly.
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