She slipped out the window, jumping to the ground from the second story with very little sound. “When are you going away?” He asked. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache. Boys, at the time of which we write, were attired like men of their own day, or certain charity-children of ours; and the stripling in question was dressed in black plush breeches, and a gray drugget waistcoat, with immoderately long pockets, both of which were evidently the cast-off clothes of some one considerably his senior. She contrived to break down the barriers of shyness at last in one direction, and talked one night of love and the facts of love with Miss Miniver. The room was dark and dusty. Looked like them statues of the Holy Mother I see about the place. So long as she could remember, her father had never permitted her to sit at the table unless she came fully dressed. His efforts at self-destruction were, however, prevented.
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