Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. Love!” He held her arm and abandoned it again at her quick defensive movement. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. "I understand," replied the stranger, unable to repress a smile. . A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. My mother, I'm sure, didn't intend to hurt your feelings.
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