Observe it—a blue-serge coat. Earles drew out his cheque book. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. "You must not remain here," he said. "Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Jonathan to Trenchard. Be seated, and calm yourself. This key," he added, taking it from the boy, "was purloined from me by your father, Jack. He had been the one to dress her in the finest silks and brocades, and here she was, displayed for the world to see in 248 drugstore makeup and the uniform of an old schoolteacher.
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