The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand. “I may not see the Widgetts for some little time, father,” she said. She had had to do away with many a leering foster father since she had started frequenting foster homes in the middle of the century.
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