“That he should be in the same world with me!” said Ann Veronica, reduced to reading the list of good things the British Tea-Table Company had priced for its patrons. . The door was locked; but, with the bars of iron, it was speedily burst open. "Hands off!" she exclaimed, "or you'll repent it. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. 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.
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