And Rollo, who had been waiting for some encouraging sound, presented himself at the doorway. On a sudden, a change came over her countenance, which, up to this moment, had worn a smiling and satisfied expression. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. "He's safe enough, I assure you. When you reach San Francisco, you can buy something more appropriate. This forthright dame was so excited, she could not keep still, but paced about the parlour much as Melusine had done earlier. You see, I’m separated from my wife. Their colloquy was ended abruptly by the apparition of Miss Klegg at the further door. Groups of boys took to ogling her as she walked frenetically from class to class. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. Wood, with a candle in his hand, which Jack instantly blew out, and darted down stairs.
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