Cathy's eyebrows perked up. He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. " "Comin'! comin'!" returned the constable, shuffling towards him. "What's that?" ejaculated the ruffian, glancing uneasily towards the window. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees.
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