She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. ‘Jacques,’ she said, turning to the lad, and holding the habit out, ‘take this for me and leave it in the passage where we have left the lantern. Footman or some such. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. On the envelope was written— Sydney Courtlaw, Esq. "Do not go near him, mother," cried Jack; "do not believe him. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand.
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