Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. “I think we’ve exhausted this discussion,” she said. "I know not—and care not," replied Jack. His figure was tall and commanding, and the expression of his countenance (though somewhat disturbed by his recent exertion) was resolute and stern. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. Somebody may be on the watch—perhaps, that old ginger-hackled Jew.
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