Having seen his mistress safe down, Jack instantly descended, leaving the best part of his clothes, as a memorial of his flight, to the jailor. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. She cried out his name in ecstasy. “After all, why should he be surprised?” she remarked. They must be for your father. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. “It is like old times,” she said, “to hear these home truths.
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