Jack had well-nigh fallen too. “To the best of my belief, I have not a single English acquaintance in the city. Diamonds! You shall have all that you can carry away, sacks full if you like. I want to make my own selection. And I don’t. 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. I’m a Socialist, Miss Stanley. “Why?” He inquired. .
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