She walked over to them still carrying the trousers in her hands, and stooped to examine them. "But never mind who, or what I am. “You see you do not know how much of truth there is in his story. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. —I'll give him the edication of a prig,—teach him the use of his forks betimes,—and make him, in the end, as clever a cracksman as his father.
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