“All’s well that ends well,” he said; “and the less one says about things the better. "I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. But she was disturbed, mysteriously disturbed. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. Always! I don’t believe there is any strong natural affection at all between parents and growing-up children. You would be alarmed of how sulphurous it is, how sickeningly sweet. He was not a sailor.
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