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. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. But she did not believe he would do that. The flowers and turf, a wild strawberry, a rare butterfly, and suchlike little intimate things had become more interesting than mountains. Wood now re-appeared with a very red face; and, followed by Winifred, took her seat at the table. She was certain he would hear, sleeping in the nearby castle. In her case the barrier was not selfishness but the perception that her interest would be misinterpreted, naturally. She turned into the study, sat down at the table and fingered the pencils, curiously stirred. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. "The youth whom you delivered to Van Galgebrok,—Thames Darrell, is returned. Wood in very characteristic attitudes, occupied a prominent place on the walls.
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