Jack was a comical scoundrel, and made a little too free with his grace's best burgundy, as well as his grace's favourite housekeeper. During all this time, he had never quitted the iron bar, and he now grasped it with the firm determination of selling his life dearly, if he met with any opposition. He raised her to a sitting position. She made an abrupt personal appeal. “Fearful old fogey! I can’t imagine any sister of yours putting up with him for a moment. Occasionally he would lean back and stare at the window which gave upon the sea.
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