"Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears. "What's that?—Jack's voice!" "It is," replied her son. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. "A man!" "At your service, my dear," replied the jailer. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. "I rather fancy, as you Britishers say, that you know the nature of my visit?" "I'm an American.
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