She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. She responded as he slipped his hands under her sweater. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. "We may trust him," he added in a whisper; "he is a staunch friend of the good cause. Words of encouragement and sympathy were addressed to Jack, who, as he looked around, beheld many a friendly glance fixed upon him.
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