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. Wild has made up his mind, and, when that's the case, all the persuasion on earth won't turn him. So, by way of gaining time, he resolved to question him further. He sent me home. ” “I have a clue, at any rate,” he remarked, smiling. The sing-song girl rose and meekly pattered out of the office into the night.
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