“Tut, tut!” he said. *** Madame la Comtesse de St Erme regarded the English major with a lacklustre eye, Gerald thought. Fifteen from forty is twenty-five. 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. I've some other things inside, Sir, which you might wish to buy,—some pistols.
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