He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. " "Others may, if you won't," muttered Jack, retiring. He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table.
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