All along the wooden benches before it sat a profusion of soldiery, a collection of barbers in attendance, busily employed in replaiting and powdering their hair ready for a military review scheduled for this afternoon. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. ” “I like the mystical way,” she said. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable.
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