Jack hastily retreated, and taking the first means of concealment that occurred to him, descended the cellar steps. “I never dreamt!” she said. Almost the best of all. Having made a tolerably good meal upon the loaf, overcome by fatigue, Jack turned into a barn in Stoke Newington, and slept till late in the day, when he awakened much refreshed. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again.
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