But this was a vicomte’s sister. “Men’s waists are neither here nor there; A man scores always, everywhere. Wood's house at Dollis Hill on Tuesday'—that's two days ago,—'hasn't been heard of since. This person, whose age might be about forty, was attired in a brown double-breasted frieze coat, with very wide skirts, and a very narrow collar; a light drugget waistcoat, with pockets reaching to the knees; black plush breeches; grey worsted hose; and shoes with round toes, wooden heels, and high quarters, fastened by small silver buckles. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. ‘And this is not all,’ went on the lady, evidently determined to disclose all her wrongs. "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers.
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