She stains the ripest virgins of her age.

It was April 22, 1831, and a young man was walking down Whitehall in the direction of Parliament Street. He wore shepherd's plaid trousers and the swallow-tail coat of the day, with a figured muslin cravat wound about his wide-spread collar.

His effort is to come as near 100 percent as is humanly (and beely) possible.

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