” 129 She smiled wider. You understand that term?” Ann Veronica smiled faintly. All other things were without weight or consequence before the fact that this poor young man would have to depend upon her for his life. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. 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. "Sir!" exclaimed Winifred, rising. “Annabel!” she exclaimed.
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