Before a word could be said, however, a slight noise was heard in the chimney, and Jack with his irons on descended from it. You'll never be guided by me—never!" "Indeed, my love, you're entirely mistaken," returned the carpenter, endeavouring to deprecate his wife's rising resentment by the softest looks, and the meekest deportment. She was frowning, but it was evident that her initial fright had left her. But he only went home again to Paddington. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. But she did not talk readily, and in order to say something she plunged a little, and felt she plunged.
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