It consisted of a close jerkin of brown frieze, ornamented with a triple row of brass buttons; loose Dutch slops, made very wide in the seat and very tight at the knees; red stockings with black clocks, and a fur cap. She was thinking fast now, all her senses on the alert. The inn was a military haunt. I wasn’t. Some indeed carried themselves, dressed themselves even, rather as foreign visitors from the land of “Looking Backward” and “News from Nowhere” than as the indigenous Londoners they were. ” Lucy replied. No matter. " "My boots! Fire and fury! They won't fit you; they are too large. Want to walk home today? Lucy slipped the paper into her English textbook. "And the Marchioness is your daughter," added Thames.
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