The scrutiny of any strange man provoked a sweaty terror. " The doctor sent her a sharp, quizzical glance. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. Missy looked like a troll with lipstick on. . " CHAPTER XIV. I hate myself!” She collapsed to the floor, sobbing. 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.
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