"The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market. Again having recourse to the centre-bit,—for Winifred's door was locked,—Jack had nearly cut out a panel, when a sudden outcry was raised in the carpenter's chamber. "You won't betray him. She threw him his car keys. Blue haze had settled beyond the black silhouettes of trees, graduating to the deep violet that began the night sky.
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