She nodded. She perceived she had never really thought of any one but herself in all her acts and plans. It was a neat, efficient-looking room, with a writing-table placed with a business-like regard to the window, and a bookcase surmounted by a pig’s skull, a dissected frog in a sealed bottle, and a pile of shiny, black-covered note-books. “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. I am used, you understand, to guard my secret. Some of these persons were examining the spot where the spike had been cut off; others the spike itself, now considered a remarkable object; and all were marvelling how Jack could have possibly squeezed himself through such a narrow aperture, until it was explained to them by Mr.
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