Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. Wood's anxiety to please her distinguished guests speedily displayed itself in a very plentiful, if not very dainty repast. She did not know herself. "What is it you want?" she asked, as she held out the coat. "I'm not worth it.
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