I have sinned deeply; but I have been sorely tried. What is it?" "Is there anything I can do?" The idiocy of the question filled him with the craving of laughter. He could not promise that she would ever appear again in that house. 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. The hotel on the Peak had the aspect of a fairy castle. Here, turnkey.
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