Feigning an air of casualness, Lucy asked the obvious. “I want to lay all my life at your feet. The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman. 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. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. She opened it and drew out a letter, and folded within it were the notes she had sent off to Ramage that day. “He must never know,” she would whisper to herself, “he must never know. Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike.
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