ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. She also knew that he was the type who would not make a single physical overture until she pushed the correct buttons. In the end, resolution triumphed, as it was sure to do, over the weaker emotions, and he laughed at his fears. "Oh God! she is dying," exclaimed Jack in a voice suffocated by emotion. In that case I'll help you. Sheppard, who witnessed this occurrence with dismay, looked timorously at Wood, in expectation of some hint being given as to the course she had better pursue; but, receiving none, for the carpenter was too much agitated to attend to her, she ventured to express a fear that she was intruding. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation.
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