So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably. After all, you failed in obtaining the secret from her, Sir Rowland. 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.
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