The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. Not a word was uttered for some time, nor any sound heard except the stilled sobs of the unfortunate mother. "Bravo, Poll!" cried Jack, who having again pinioned Shotbolt, was now tracing a few hasty lines on a sheet of paper. Sebastian had known it was coming, but he could not avoid sleeping as easily as she could.
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