From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly. Shortly afterwards,—it seemed an age to the anxious mother,—Mr. Such was the simple code that displayed itself in all his thoughts. His lips were tight drawn. ‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic.
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