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. "You've given him a broken head, I perceive. "See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. “Please stop, cabman,” she ordered. ‘In fact, I’ve never met anyone who goaded me to so much violence. ’ ‘Then they are soldiers. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words.
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