" "Pish!" cried Jack: "I don't value his anger a straw. ” Chapter XXV THE STEEL EDGE OF THE TRUTH The manservant, with his plain black clothes and black tie, had entered the room with a deferential little gesture. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him.
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