A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. She loped forward on unnaturally long legs and arms that swung loosely. ‘Aha,’ grunted Gerald with satisfaction, squinting up at the two open shutters on the second floor. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau.
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