. . Yet every now and then, during the progress of the meal, his attention apparently wandered, and leaning forward he glanced covertly at Anna with a curious mixture of expressions on his face. “You are in trouble,” he said. “So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um. What of that?" "Vot 'o that!" echoed Sharples, peevishly: "Everythin'. The old man was conducted to Jack's cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview.
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