I was afraid of being talked about. "Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer. She looked at him gravely and squinted. Earles said, rubbing his hands together, “by post. He and his friends (he had at least two per class, even in Trigonometry) would make their exits as quickly as possible. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master.
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