Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. You won't mind if I empty this gin?" "No. The young fellow was almost as odd in his way as the girl was in hers. Smith had never seen anything like it. I will arise myself. “How do you feel?” she asked. Only Gwen left a letter on the pincushion.
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