Words of encouragement and sympathy were addressed to Jack, who, as he looked around, beheld many a friendly glance fixed upon him. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. She noted the dank hair on his forehead, the sweat of revolting nature.
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