He was content to talk about himself, though in the back of his clever mind he already suspected that she was not offering any details about her life. ” She pointed to the envelope still resting upon the mantelpiece. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace in Sharples's face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him.
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