" "Don't anger him, my dear son," implored the poor widow, with a look of anguish at Jack. I’m minded to take a whip and beat some sense into you. I intend to remain very serious indeed while I’m doing it. It doesn't annoy me; it only disturbs me. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. It was Sebastian’s fault for slapping her face and letting the baby out. They were properly brought up, and sat still and straight, and took the luck fate brought them as gentlewomen should. Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!. I was always told my mother died the day I was born. ‘But you will not be in a convent.
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