"Mother!" cried Jack, springing towards her. There was already a score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together, others seated in chairs ranged along the wall. Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. “For my part I can see no difference in any of these French girls who come over here with their demure manner and atrocious songs.
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