Anna stood looking down upon her sister with grave perturbed face. Capes looked at one and not over one, spoke to one, treated one as a visible concrete fact. The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation. In a moment he was beside her. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. "And Jack?" "Gone too," sobbed his daughter. “It isn’t a joke,” she said.
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