You have somewhere to go to in London, I hope. He knocked at the door. 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. He knocked his pipe on the teak rail. “I ought to look up Gwen,” she said.
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