It was eleven o'clock. 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. She could not help but admit that she liked being smiled at and addressed in the hallways by hordes of friendly faces. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched.
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