“TROUSERS!” she whispered. “I am sure you will marry Nigel sooner or later, and then all your work will be thrown away. But I can't consent to the course you would pursue—at least, not till I've given it due consideration. He rose, steadied himself, then walked out of the dining room. He had little money about him, and unless friends come to his aid he must be treated as a pauper. A black-garbed young lad leapt out and let down the steps.
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