"But your threats won't prevent my leaving the room when I please, and as I please. The longing to talk to someone! But in the end she had gone to her room without giving in to the craving. ‘Let her go. 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 stranger turned his head at the sound. Jonathan stepped behind a curtain. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. ‘You must think me a fool, mademoiselle.
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