“We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. He frowned. ” His voice assumed an easy detached tone. The fair boy in the audience who had waved was yet another suitor. 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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