With Jack so badly injured, how would she get him home? How get herself home, now that Trodger had arrested her. Gerald had been confident that the boy would not dream of disobeying an order thrown at him by a major of militia, but he guessed Jack might be wondering if he was about to be haled off to prison. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. She did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind. She still could not muster the strength to leave. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. But he was at last persuaded that I mean you no harm, and that I might—just possibly, since I am both a gentleman and a major of militia—be able to be of more assistance to you than he himself. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn.
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