Directly dinner was over Mr. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. To this Jack replied, that he should be perfectly contented, provided he might have a small allowance of gin. Upon the steps leading to the gates of the church stood two persons whom Jack instantly recognised. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully. So, not exactly hopefully but earnestly, she returned to the feet of God. She shook her head. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. That would be him. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative.
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