She had not thought anything could equal her despair at that moment. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. Secretly she was gratified to be assigned to the rôle of an old traveller. . “Damn!” said Ann Veronica to herself, rousing herself for a conflict. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. . "Mother! dear mother!" cried Jack, folding her to his breast.
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