Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. This is clear over my head. . The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. And mind he doesn't stir out of your sight, on any pretence whatever, till I call.
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