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Arrived in Paris she remembered that she had not the money for a fiacre. The Well Hole 336 XIII. "You are my prisoner, Jack. Lord knew why he had any interest in an impertinent girl who would certainly have spit him with that dagger! He reached into his pocket and brought it out, examining it in the increasing light as he slowly made his way back up the terrace. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. “If only I could afford another!” she thought regretfully. She could not see any relief from this anxiety except repayment, and repayment seemed impossible.
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