"Can I help you, Jack?" asked Thames, taking up a plane. 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. " The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. “Indeed,” she said, “I would not. Since Jack has left us, what does it matter whether he's pleased or not?" At this moment, a whistle was heard.
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