The door of a small glass office, which was partitioned off from the rest of the room, was slowly opened, and a little blear-eyed, weazen-faced, ancient man came creeping out.—Chap. xi.
"Stand off for a moment, Tom," cried the old pupil, . . . "Let me look at you! Just the same! Not a bit changed!"—Chap. xii.
"I'm going up," observed the driver; "Hounslow, ten miles this side London"—Chap. xiii.
Stuck his hands in his skirt pockets and swaggered round the corner.—Chap. xiii.
