He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused. Raising the bowl in his right hand, Jack glanced towards the balcony, in which the group of ladies were seated, and begged to drink their healths; he then turned to Kneebone and the others, who extended their hands towards him, and raised it to his lips. Well, let him be honest. He laughed once or twice at himself as he paced backwards and forwards. “Useless—worse than useless. The trader you spoke about: he disliked your father, didn't he? Well, he probably played your father a horrible practical joke. Manning called. The sounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation. ’ Joan nodded, her face still averted.
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