Darting down Field-lane, Jack struck into a labyrinth of streets on the left; but though he ran as swiftly as he could, he was not unperceived. "She is here," cried Jack, darting forward. How dare you use my name and sing my songs?” Anna looked at her sister in blank amazement. Plote was sleeping or deaf. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it.
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