My, um, my curfew. ’ Mrs Chalkney lifted her brows. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. From this peaceful scene Jack's eye fell upon Jonathan, who, seated upon the stile, under the shade of an elder tree, was evidently watching him. He drew a little breath of relief. Let him not bear the weight of my punishment.
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