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Jack was lying so still, for a moment she panicked. “We have no airs and graces here, and my hat hangs from a peg in the passage. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. When I am angry, I can get very mean. The morning of Monday the 16th of November 1724 at length dawned. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees.
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