" "A miniature! Of whom?" "That I can't say," replied Jack, mysteriously. Hetty, who had periods of lucid expression, put the thing for her from her pillow. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. The sound of her flying feet brought Gerald leaping for the door. ‘But—’ ‘Nothing at all for you to worry your head over,’ said the captain, moving to try and usher her forth. There were mysterious rustlings that made him glance hopefully toward the sea.
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