‘I’ve finished me report, sir,’ Trodger said aggrievedly. Jack had got into one of the pens at the north side of the chapel. The plank hung over his head. “In fact, yes, I do. The less said, therefore, on this point the better; because, as nothing is to be gained by it, it would only be trouble thrown away. He himself had deadened the sound by closing the door. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom.
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