The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. I thought if you were living, and not captured, I should find you here,—and I was right. You see, I’m separated from my wife. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it.
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