Manning—“one in Oxford University and one in Kensington. ” Her heart leaped within her as she caught that phrase. He was a comforting, humorous old ruffian; but there were few men in the Orient more deeply read in psychology and physiognomy. He had not addressed to her even the most ordinary courtesy of fellow travellers; she doubted that he was even aware of her existence. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. “She told you that?” “Yes. Clearing the few impediments in his way, he soon reached the condemned pew, where it had once been his fate to sit; and extending himself on the seat endeavoured to snatch a moment's repose. ” “A man does,” said Manning—“a true man, anyhow. You shall swing for this after next sessions, or my name's not Jonathan Wild.
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