Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass. Sheppard repressed the scream that rose to her lips, and both mother and son gazed with apprehension at the heavy figure of the thief-taker, which, viewed in the twilight, seemed dilated to twice its natural size, and appeared almost to block up the window. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. “It means that I have had enough of this slavery,” she declared. All the money he earned—serving McClintock and the muse—could be laid away. "Mother!" cried Jack, springing towards her. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately.
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