The temperature soared to one hundred degrees, sickeningly hot. "I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. ‘And me?’ ‘Oh, you’re mad because you wish to blow off my head. “You are certain of this. ‘Again?’ Another simple parry. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. He looked at it with uplifted eyebrows, but made no remark. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. At last, he got into a lane, but had not proceeded far when he was again alarmed by the sound of a horse's tread.
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