"Thames was always your favourite," observed Jack, as he fastened another piece of wood on the teeth of the iron stopper. There was something which chilled even him in the cold impassivity of her features. His thoughts, indeed, were too painful for utterance, and so acute were his feelings, that, for some time, they quite overcame him. He leaned forward to better drink her in. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. Opals. "Hear me, Jack!" shrieked his mother.
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