It was the first complaint I had ever made to him in my life--the first time I had ever dared to enter his _sanctum sanctorum_; and I remained tongue-tied upon the threshold, without knowing how to begin.

I thought he would have looked me down.

I felt the blood receding from my face beneath his cold gaze, as he said-- "Geoffrey, what do you want here ?" "I came, sir," I at last faltered out, "to make a complaint against Mr.
Jones." "I never listen to complaints brought by a pupil against his teacher," he cried, in a voice which made me recoil over the door-step.

"Be gone, sir! If you come into my presence again on such an errand, I will spurn you from the room." This speech, meant to intimidate me, restored my courage.

I felt the hot blood rush to my face in a fiery flood.
"Hear me, sir.