Foster's own room was a cramped omnium gatherum, cluttered with the
paraphernalia of daily living. It was somewhat disordered and untidy--the
chamber of a man who could never see clearly how things were, or be
completely sure just what he was about.
"There's Pepys up there," he said, pointing to his bookshelf, as he worked
out of his chair and tried to dispose himself comfortably on a couch. "I
hope we're going to get along a little farther with him, some time."
"As to that, I _have_ been getting along a little farther;--I've been
to the Library, looking somewhat ahead in the completer edition. I find
that 'Will,' who flung his cloak over his shoulder, 'like a ruffian,' and
got his ears boxed for it, was no mere temporary serving-man, but lived on
with Pepys for years and became the most intimate and trusted of his
friends. And 'Gosnell,' who lasted three days, you remember, as Mrs. Pepys'
maid, turns up a year or two later as an actress at 'the Duke's house.' and
'Deb,' that other maid whose name we have noted farther along--well,
there's a deal more about her than exactly tends to edification.
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