“We have no airs and graces here, and my hat hangs from a peg in the passage. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. His baggy shorts sagged over knobby knees that tapered into decrepit Reebok sneakers. Every afternoon, from now on, I will teach you a little about life—I mean the worldly points of view you're likely to meet. Kneebone and his Friends. As soon as she noticed the stranger, she honoured him with an extremely impudent stare, and scarcely endeavoured to disguise the admiration with which his good looks impressed her.
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