If he had nothing to tell her, she had nothing to ask. She must speak to Jack. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. No wonder we are anxious that nothing should happen to make him change his mind.
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