" "I feel it," replied Jack, in a tone of agony, "and I feel it more on my poor mother's account than my own. ” She looked down on him thoughtfully, and he let his admiration of her free young poise show in his face. . At any rate, it would be good to hear him saying the sort of things he did—perhaps now she would grasp them better—with this world-shaking secret brandishing itself about inside her head within a yard of him. He must be more or less of an age with this man. She had hardly noticed the loss of her dagger, so strong had been the waves of relief that attacked her on hearing that Jack had returned from death’s door. See paragraph 1. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley.
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