\"Hey, you dudes!\" The word dude coming from Michelle's mouth suited her just about as well as the word \"gnarly\" suited Winston Churchill. They were followed by Jonathan, who carried a stout stick under his arm, and planted himself near the stone. The office is a sight—not one sheet of paper on another; bills and receipts everywhere. 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. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. “I dare not,” she answered.
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