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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

The other Viscount have been horse-racing,
and dicing, and carrying on all his life. All right enough, no
doubt; but what I do say is, that it don't lead to nothink.
Whereas--'
'Whereas Mr. Rowley's?' I put in.
'My Viscount?' said he. 'Well, sir, I DID say it; and now that
I've seen you, I say it again!'
I could not refrain from smiling at this outburst, and the rascal
caught me in the mirror and smiled to me again.
'I'd say it again, Mr. Hanne,' he said. 'I know which side my
bread's buttered. I know when a gen'leman's a gen'leman. Mr. Powl
can go to Putney with his one! Beg your pardon, Mr. Anne, for
being so familiar,' said he, blushing suddenly scarlet. 'I was
especially warned against it by Mr. Powl.'
'Discipline before all,' said I. 'Follow your front-rank man.
With that, we began to turn our attention to the clothes. I was
amazed to find them fit so well: not a la diable, in the haphazard
manner of a soldier's uniform or a ready-made suit; but with
nicety, as a trained artist might rejoice to make them for a
favourite subject.
''Tis extraordinary,' cried I: 'these things fit me perfectly.'
'Indeed, Mr. Anne, you two be very much of a shape,' said Rowley.
'Who? What two?' said I.
'The Viscount,' he said.
'Damnation! Have I the man's clothes on me, too?' cried I.


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