“It is possible, mademoiselle,” he said, “that this affair is not yet ended. Ought she to walk into some of these places and tell them what she could do? She hesitated at the window of a shipping-office in Cockspur Street and at the Army and Navy Stores, but decided that perhaps there would be some special and customary hour, and that it would be better for her to find this out before she made her attempt. By this time, Jack's reputation had risen to such a height with the populace,—his exploits having become the universal theme of discourse, that the streets were almost impassable for the crowds collected to obtain a view of him. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. 9. What lends a tragic mockery to all these tender traps of hers was that she was within lawful bounds. Socks and shoes were harder to find, and she ended up wearing men’s athletic tube socks and a pair of dust caked flip-flops that had sat forlornly in Locker 49 since 1978. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling.
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