Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. "But, perhaps, he has not got beyond the room above. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. In your heart you know quite well that all that you have said is useless. β βMe, miss?β uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. "Or the street," returned Jack: "mind my words, the prison's not built that can keep me. "And now," cried Jack, leaping up, "for an achievement, compared with which all I have yet done shall be as nothing!" CHAPTER XVII.
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