That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. This door, which was open, Jonathan locked and took out the key. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf. “I will not rob you of your coffee, most dutiful of sisters!” she exclaimed. No— no, it must never be.
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