Across the blackboard the colored chalks flew like flights of variously tinted rockets as diagram after diagram flickered into being. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. my first symphony!” Brown’s eyebrows rose skeptically. Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. "Are you hurt, Thames?" asked Jack, anxiously. And now you must go back, take up your work and think all this over. .
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