“A serious question. Do you think that I am utterly selfish?” She raised her eyebrows. " "I wish I could, Joan," returned the carpenter, sadly. "At present under the care of his preserver—one Owen Wood, a carpenter, by whom he was brought up. Still, her face never betrayed this distraction. ‘And why not?’ ‘Because,’ Gerald said matter of factly, ‘convent-bred jeune demoiselles do not commonly know how to handle either pistols or daggers. Jonathan Wild and his bloodhounds, with a hundred others, incited by the reward, will be upon my track.
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