Carefully abstaining from thrusting against each other, Ann Veronica and her father began an absurdly desperate struggle, the one to open the door, the other to keep it fastened. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. Finding it impossible to descend on any side, without incurring serious risk, Jack resolved to return for his blanket, by the help of which he felt certain of accomplishing a safe landing on the roof of the house in Giltspur Street. Then I assumed a rather portentous manner to prepare him.
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