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. Morgan the trader did not haggle over the pearls, but gave me at once what he judged a fair price. She was wan and white. 1715. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense.
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