There stepped forth a tall brown man. ’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. The name of this damsel was Edgeworth Bess; and, as her fascinations will not, perhaps, be found to be without some influence upon the future fortunes of her boyish admirer, we have thought it worth while to be thus particular in describing them. Only I am not an acquaintance at all. Folks don’t like ’em. Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. Your adoptive father understands mankind better. That dress! Only a man—and an unworldly one—would have permitted you to proceed on your adventure dressed in a gown thirty years out of date.
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