He saw no one who resembled either his master or Aouda. ‘Good!’ muttered he, ‘Aouda has not got up yet, and Mr. Fogg has probably found some par...ners at whist.’ He descended to the saloon. Mr. Fogg was not there. Passepartout had only, however, to ask the purser the number of his master’s state-room. The purser replied that he did not know any passenger by the name of Fogg. ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Passepartout persistently. ‘He is a tall gentleman, quiet, and not very talkative, and has. Kristen took the chair adjacent to me, turned to put down the two glasses of water and turned to face me. “So, Miss Cummings tells me you are having a little bit of trouble with essay writing, Jason. Correct? What is it that you struggle with?” she asked, swiftly passing her hand on my knee. “Um…” I stutter as I try not to make it apparent that I’m checking her out as she sits in front of me. She leaned forward a little bit, with one leg crossed over the other. “Well mainly the…everything.” I. More

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