Ennison, who had been standing with his back to the window, came suddenly a little further into the room. ‘Because she, naturally enough, does not consider that it is in any way my affair. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. “Love should be enough, John, but it never is. There were lines in her face that age had not put there. They tracked the fugitive to the Mint; but, like hounds at fault, they here lost all scent of their prey. She obeyed, extending her arm. “Well?” he asked her tersely. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. She glanced into his face. With all your cunning, we're more than a match for you. I applaud your prudence: it is, however, needless. I don't threaten idly, as you know. ‘I’m taking you to Gerald, my girl.
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