His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. "Stand aside, Tom," commanded Kneebone. Are you quite shure you haven't another alyas, Masther Thames Ditton?" "Darrell, I tell you. Anna rummaged about in her dressingcase, and finally drew out a letter.
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