“That is where I got confused,” he said. “She thinks that Missy is trying to turn me into a punk or a Goth. You’re a lady all right and tight, and nothing anyone does can take that away from you. 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. ‘Pen and paper, do you have them?’ ‘Danged if I have,’ came the truculent response. These thoughts, however, came to a broken end.
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