" "Poor Jack!" sighed Thames. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. " So saying, she planted herself between Jack and the turnkey. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. Spurlock knew exactly what he was doing, however: speculative mischief, to see how she would act. Sheppard broke from him, and filled the room with her shrieks.
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