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. But although startled and clearly afraid, there was no self-consciousness in her gaze and she was standing her ground. She slipped down the perfunctory flight of stairs, short because of the home’s split-level style. She began to tremble violently. CHAPTER XXIV. God, we suck. White leaned forward in her chair with an anxious smile designed to throw oil upon the troubled waters. The Storm VII.
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