She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. She had no intention whatsoever of spending her life in a convent, but that was not his affair. But tell her this, too. “Silly!” he remarked after a pause. Nothing seemed to be amiss. He could not move; but stood like one stupified, with his hands clasped together, and eyes almost starting out of their sockets, fixed upon his unfortunate parent. On taxing his recollection, the whole circumstance rushed to mind with painful distinctness. By this time, Jack's reputation had risen to such a height with the populace,—his exploits having become the universal theme of discourse, that the streets were almost impassable for the crowds collected to obtain a view of him.
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