Chapter Eleven Melusine’s limbs nearly gave way beneath her. “It is Michelle, John. 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. It’s too valiant, Miss Stanley, too valiant altogether!” Ann Veronica meditated.
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