All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. “Sir John is a man of the world,” her aunt answered coldly.
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