"How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. " "I don't care for that," replied Jack. They knew they were all Bogey in disguise. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. “The Widgetts,” she said. “The smallest will do for me quite well. " Mrs.
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