"Well, gentlemen," rejoined Wood, mildly; "since Mr. ” John greeted him. Wood's. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. Left to Capting Roding, as he told me hisself, you’d be in prison this moment. Everybody talking of you.
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