"I fear not," replied Jack, despondingly. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. “It is strange that we should have met Annabel,” she said. "Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. She stood there limply and did not act to resist him.
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