Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. He was fast rising to an eminence that no one of his nefarious profession ever reached before him, nor, it is to be hoped, will ever reach again. Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage. Mr. He seemed to her indistinguishably about her father’s age. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. “Mr. " As she said this, she drew a little aside, while Mrs. A dresser, a washstand, and a clothes press. “Do you mean, aunt,” she asked, “that my father thought I had gone off—with some man?” “What else COULD he think? Would any one DREAM you would be so mad as to go off alone?” “After—after what had happened the night before?” “Oh, why raise up old scores? If you could see him this morning, his poor face as white as a sheet and all cut about with shaving! He was for coming up by the very first train and looking for you, but I said to him, ‘Wait for the letters,’ and there, sure enough, was yours. ” “Severely dampened? By what?” “By hope. \"Yes, he's hot, drives a great car, parents are loaded, and, of course, as you say, good-looking.
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