“I wonder,” he said, “is there anything we could do to help you to get rid of him?” “Can you think of anything?” Anna answered. Finding it impossible to descend on any side, without incurring serious risk, Jack resolved to return for his blanket, by the help of which he felt certain of accomplishing a safe landing on the roof of the house in Giltspur Street. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. Marriage was a taboo subject between them. "Farewell!" cried Jack, breaking from them, and rushing down the street. He wanted to put on his overcoat and come after you and look for you—in London.
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