Mr. Jack who had not been in a place of worship for many years was powerfully affected. The unknown, previously so attractive, now presented another face—blank. “I can say no more. ” “Why on earth—? A man ought to be labelled. As he crossed the cellar, he passed so near to Jack who had concealed himself behind a piece of furniture that he almost touched him. Taking off his stockings, he then drew up the basils as far as he was able, and tied the fragments of the broken chain to his legs, to prevent them from clanking, and impeding his future exertions. He was so depressed and disheartened that he did not then believe he would ever write again.
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