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. ‘Then it is that you will have pity? Here we have come, we poor, for aid. ’ ‘You little fiend,’ exclaimed Gerald wrathfully. He wanted to put on his overcoat and come after you and look for you—in London. I mean Miss Charvill no harm. “I can’t imagine it,” said Miss Miniver.
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