‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. 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. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. It'll be your own fault if you don't soon get another and a proper young man into the bargain. She realized in a moment what had happened.
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