This morning his entourage (as he jestingly called it) consisted of the girl, two spinsters (Prudence and Angelina Jedson), prim and doubtful of the world, and the young man who appeared to be considerably the worse for the alcohol he had consumed. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces. A quick flush stained her cheeks.
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