"I have hurt you because I would not trust 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. The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. To-day is for the sights; the other three days—lessons. Pah!’ She flounced about and, crossing to the bed, plonked down on it, pointedly averting her face and resting the large pistol in her lap. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. Pause. I left him in charge of Quilt Arnold and Rykhart Van Galgebrok—the skipper I spoke of— with strict orders to shoot him if he made any further attempt at escape; and they're not lads—the latter especially—to be trifled with. For a moment he did not recognize Annabel. For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality.
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