There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau. "You've perjured yourself. So that the thought of Ann Veronica up-stairs had been extremely painful for her through all the silent dinner-time that night. But threats and entreaties—even promises were ineffectual; and the unlucky captive, after exhausting his powers of persuasion, was compelled to give up the point. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. Wood's, the carpenter in Wych Street. ’ With difficulty, Gerald bit back a laugh. ’ He shifted unguardedly, and hissed a breath, wincing.
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