On the present occasion, he appeared to have bestowed more than ordinary attention on his toilette. " "Let me go," implored Mrs. “You have changed somehow—and you certainly are less friendly. " Bamboo and bead tinkled and slithered behind him. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. The Ragged Edge.
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