She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. Jack, who had something of the Spartan in his composition, endured his martyrdom without flinching; and carried his stoical indifference so far, as even to make a mocking grimace in Sharples's face, while that amiable functionary thrust Thames into the recess beside him. " "Rather behind me;" and he spoke no more that morning. You see, aunt, it’s the only possible way for me to get a good degree in my subjects, and father won’t hear of it.
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