“Did you ever see women so weary-looking and so dowdy? They do not talk. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. Neither would she allow herself to feel guilty nor would she allow him to find a way into the house. Gerald? But could he be here so quickly? She hastily dabbed at her eyes, thankful for the darkness that she saw had come on outside unnoticed, dimming the room. 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. I haven't touched the other.
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