It’s a mismatch. "Steady, old top! What are you going to do?" "The damned scoundrel!" "I told you that child was opal. ‘That is what she wants, is it?’ ‘Do you blame her?’ he said stiffly. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. “I wish they did,” he said, “but they don’t. He meant to take her out of this room, perhaps even out of the house. The fire still burned brightly. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases.
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