” She took the pocket-book and looked up at him with a little impulsive movement. 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. Muffling up his face, Jack turned away; but he had not proceeded many steps when he heard a man reading aloud an account of his escapes from a newspaper. ‘And she’s—’ She broke off, a sudden light in her eyes. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. " "Excuse me, Madam," replied the carpenter, turning his back upon her, and sinking into a chair: "Thames, my love, bring me my spectacles. " She kindled with sympathy. I—In fact, I dislike him extremely.
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