“Sir John of course disapproves of me,” she remarked slowly. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. "I merely asked the question," he said, after he had enjoyed the boy's suspense for a moment. "I am content," said Jack. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation.
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