“TROUSERS!” she whispered. "This locket," he said, taking a little ornament attached to a black ribband from his breast, and giving it her,—"do you remember it?" "I do—I do!" cried Winifred. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. “Some of them seem to be having an awfully good time too. The Night-Cellar. "Somebody ought to get hold of that young man," said Prudence, grimly, as she nodded in Spurlock's direction.
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