“No, stay, Lucy. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. But that title he would not endure. 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. " "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, paralysed by her cries. But Sheppard was not to be silenced. “Tiffany’s?” He looked at her comically. He was into the passage in time to see her slip into another chamber at the end. She rose to the fire to stoke it.
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