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. He's neighbourly; he has a jingle for every ache and joy I've had. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. "Let me go," cried Winifred.
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