But more than a quarter of an hour had gone by.

Somewhere about the premises, and for some reason unknown to her, a greater pressure of gas had been turned on, and the thin blue flame under the kettle had shot up to a full blazing ring.

A smell of burnt sugar greeted her as she opened the door.
There was no need to look into the kettle.

She knew before she did so that the candy was burnt black, and Jack's fob no longer attainable.
Her first impulse was to run to Betty for comfort.

It would be easy enough to borrow the money she needed from her, and pay her back after the holidays, but--a sober second thought stopped her.