They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were. "You've been quizzing my friend Kent, I perceive, in your Burlington Gate. This is not what I want. ” “He seems like such a nice boy. E. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses.
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