On one side of the chapel there was a large grated window, but, as it looked upon the interior of the jail, Jack preferred following the course he had originally decided upon to making any attempt in this quarter. A dozen words, and he saw Enschede as clearly as though he stood hard by in the flesh. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. These things did not harmonize with his conception of the forthcoming (if unavoidable) interview. When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. “Is there any urgency?” The doctor bent over his patient, who seemed to have fallen asleep.
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