This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. One of them was a stout square-built man, with a singularly swarthy complexion, and harsh forbidding features. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. "The idea of a Malay, born Mahometan, being reared in the Vatican, hit me as funny. It developed into a sort of secret and private bad manners. Wood will be here presently. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. "Do you see any likeness?" "Don't I," returned Jack, bitterly. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lucy asked.
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