She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. She saw its depraved eyes, but worse were the glittering teeth as it smiled. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. 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. At this moment, the landlord of the Crown, a jovial-looking stout personage, with a white apron round his waist, issued from the house, bearing a large wooden bowl filled with ale, which he offered to Jack, who instantly rose to receive it. Even now she was dazed.
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