“She must go her own way. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. “I have made no progress with my work,” she said slowly, “and the money was gone. My birthday was on May first. “I must take them,” she said, to help herself over her own incredulity. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose.
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