A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. Would it be Thérèse?’ She shook her head. But the besetting evil of the place, and that which drew down the severest censures of the writers above-mentioned, was that this spot,—which of all others should have been most free from such intrusion—was made a public exhibition. She began to tremble violently. "What is it you want?" she asked, as she held out the coat. Look at the cock’s feathers, look at the competition there is everywhere, except among humans. I'll wait here.
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