She guessed Jack was having trouble finding the right piece of carving. Jack had no sooner taken his place in the cart, than he was followed by the ordinary, who seated himself beside him, and, opening the book of prayer, began to read aloud. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. She felt she must suffocate if these men did not put her down, and for a time they would not put her down. But women—women as a rule don’t throw themselves into things like that. Perhaps the sunken cheeks and the protruding cheekbones gave her this impression. But, when the sound of the carriage-wheels died away, and he felt that she was actually gone, his resolution failed him, and he rang the bell violently. Goodbye. A new thought checked her steps and she froze.
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