"To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. Guiltily, she felt very little for him, and yet she wondered what he would be like. She got hysterical. Why don’t you just tell me what is going on with you! Why the police questioned you! Why they’re looking for your mother? I’ll understand! Just tell me and I swear to God Lucy I’ll understand. Then the incredible happened. "Lean on me," said Jack. Of course I know nothing of what really did happen in Paris—if even you ever saw him there. From this perturbed state he was roused by thoughts of his mother, and fancying he heard her gentle voice urging him on to fresh exertion, he started up.
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