At least, I hope so for his sake as well as my own," he added, mentally. “Because you used to be my friend, Lucy, and now I don’t get to see you anymore unless I can get into your house. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. As Jack appeared to be sinking fast, his fetters were removed, his own clothes were returned to him, and he was allowed a mattress and a scanty supply of bed-linen. A fortnight passed, then a month.
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