They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. 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. Do have some tea, won’t you? If you must, go then. Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person.
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