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. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. After passing Tottenham Court Road, very few houses were to be seen on the right hand, opposite Wardour Street it was open country. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said.
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