Maggot was equipped in a light blue riding-habit, trimmed with silver, a hunting-cap and a flaxen peruke, and, instead of a whip, carried a stout cudgel. She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. ” “Act two,” she continued.
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