‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. As he crossed the cellar, he passed so near to Jack who had concealed himself behind a piece of furniture that he almost touched him. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. .
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