“If any one should know——you should! He was your friend. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. It is the health of a stranger,—of Mr. The Frenchman had moved back into Piccadilly from Down Street, at which the lad following him had immediately sauntered away a yard or two. "In with him!" "Ay—ay, yer hon'r," cried the foremost chairman, lending a helping hand. He knew very well that his muscles were flabby, and his nerve by no means what it should be. Earles remarked genially. "You are a physician; you know the vagaries of men in liquor. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat.
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