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. Got the tickets? Yes, but then—you said you borrowed?” “I did, too,” said Ann Veronica. Where's the dining room? And, say, can I have some eggs? This jam-tea breakfast gets my goat.
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