There were cakes and sandwiches—for Ennison a sort of Elysian feast, long to be remembered. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. This last operation was so fatiguing, that for a short time he was obliged to pause to recover the use of his fingers.
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