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. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. Her mother missed writing for a week, and then she wrote in an unusual key. ’ At that, a flush drenched her cheeks and she snatched her hand away.
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