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. "But, where's the strange gentleman I saw under the table?" "Under the table!" echoed Blueskin, winking at Jack. ’ She eyed him. I’d ruin the things if I so much as touched one. Then he understood.
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