Jack hastily retreated, and taking the first means of concealment that occurred to him, descended the cellar steps. He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. It had been a big event for teens across town. "I'd rather you went over the last four chapters, which I haven't polished yet. "To paint your portrait," answered the jailer. “Didn’t you know he was married?” asked Miss Klegg, and was struck by a thought that made her glance quickly at her companion. Doesn’t matter a bit to me.
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