The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. He had attained the residence by his political ascension to the Duke of Herculis. Then a third secretarial opening occurred and renewed her hopes again: a position as amanuensis—with which some of the lighter duties of a nurse were combined— to an infirm gentleman of means living at Twickenham, and engaged upon a great literary research to prove that the “Faery Queen” was really a treatise upon molecular chemistry written in a peculiar and picturesquely handled cipher. In fact, I order you to do so.
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