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CHAPTER IX. And they pay her. Been making herself at home all right. 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. “After all,” she said, “if this person will not be reasonable, I am afraid——” It was enough. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. But, perhaps, you'll first accompany me to my dwelling for a moment, that we may arrange our accounts before we start.
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