I would that you were my own. The black clad students streamed slowly to their positions carrying their instruments like offerings to the pilgrimage. They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. A curious silence ensued. "Begone, wretch!" cried the mother, stung beyond endurance by his taunts; "or I will drive you hence with my curses. ” The tall young man dropped his eye-glass and smiled.
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