During the narration Jack's features lighted up, and an expression, which would have been in vain looked for in repose, was instantly caught and depicted by the skilful artist. She wallowed for a time in the thought of Capes, unable to escape from his image and the idea of his presence in her life. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. "I cannot—dare not injure him," rejoined Trenchard, with a haggard look, and sinking, as if paralysed, into a chair.
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