‘There are no Remenhams left. . ” Anna moved softly to the window, and threw up the sash. Smith's melody had subsided. The blades on the top spun faster and faster. 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. ” “And I may bring my luggage in and send that cabman away?” Anna asked.
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