‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. "Oh! if this is the case, do not stay an instant. Then the long lashes sank demurely over them. 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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