Not a breath was drawn. Muffling up his face, Jack turned away; but he had not proceeded many steps when he heard a man reading aloud an account of his escapes from a newspaper. “But who could have lent you money?” “I pawned my pearl necklace. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. Past her shot the little old lady in the bonnet, running incredibly fast, but otherwise still alertly respectable, and she was making a strange threatening sound as she ran, such as one would use in driving ducks out of a garden—“B-rr-r-r-r—!” and pawing with black-gloved hands. " "Help me through at all hazards, Poll," cried Jack, straining towards the opening.
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