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 know,” he went on, “this doesn’t seem to me to end anything. You jumped, and I think that you left me. “I’ve been to hear you lots of times. ” “That is quite untrue,” she declared cheerfully.
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