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. \" Lucy said. ” He put his head on one side, pulled down the corners of his mouth, and looked at her over his glasses. That would be an unkind twist of fate. And we men would work for them and serve them in loyal fealty. He, next cautiously tried the door, but found it fastened inside. CHAPTER XVI.
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