Gerald caught the look and slipped the weapon into his pocket. If Jack should die, all though her fault, she could never forgive herself. "The youth whom you delivered to Van Galgebrok,—Thames Darrell, is returned. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother. You have neither reason nor logic. So you took my womb away, you took my baby! So I could be a monster! Because she was a monster! We are monsters!” He grabbed the top of the cannon away from her face. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink.
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