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. ” Diane’s voice resonated up the stairs. ” Her mind diverged to other aspects, and another type of womanhood. She was retuning, fifths spilling from the sliver of light underneath the door like milk. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion.
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