Maggot. She looked at her for a moment fixedly. He smothered a laugh. Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles. “I may not see the Widgetts for some little time, father,” she said. He wore a French military undress of the period, with high jack-boots, and a laced hat; and, though his attire indicated no particular rank, he had completely the air of a person of distinction. He jumped back, wrenching the sword away.
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