" Broken pipes littered the floor, if that can be said to be littered, which, in the first instance, was a mass of squalor and filth. And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. “You will come back, won’t you?” He nodded cheerfully. 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. For the first time that day, she was finally able to look into his face. "Gentlemen, a little further off, if you please.
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