She was posing before the mirror, critically, miserably, defensively, and perhaps bewilderedly. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room. ‘Gammon. " "Can I trust him?" mused Jack. As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. He sat in much the same attitude, and she stood just as she had stood when he told her she could not go to the Fadden Dance.
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