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. ” Ann Veronica could have wept with vexation. She took a few of his things before she scanned the area. “I don’t see quite what your game is, Vee, but I suppose you’ve got a game on somewhere. She, perhaps, displayed herself rather consciously as a fine person unduly limited.
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