He halted and put out a hand to stop Hilary. It is dull—deadly dull. He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. Nothing disheartened by this survey, Jack set to work upon the lock, which he attacked with all his implements;—now attempting to pick it with the nail;— now to wrench it off with the bar: but all without effect. “I’m fine,” she said softly. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably.
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