"It is the voice of inspiration," said Thames; "and I receive it as a solemn command. She had taken care he should have this momentous talk with her on a garden-seat commanded by the windows of the house. 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. “Perhaps,” she said, “it is the London climate. ” “And mine,” murmured his companion, with the smile still lingering upon his lips. There was a couple of blackboards at each end of the aisle of tables, and at these Capes, with quick and nervous speech that contrasted vividly with Russell’s slow, definitive articulation, directed the dissection and made illuminating comments on the structures under examination. "O Massa Ireton! Massa Wild!" ejaculated Caliban, "Shack Sheppart gone!" "Gone? you black devil!—Gone?" cried Ireton. “You are talking like a boy. I don’t conceal it. “Well,” she admitted.
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