She put her hand in his to be squeezed. . She was marvellously pretty, but he was not quite sure—yet—that it was advisable for him to sit with her in so public a place. She was correct, and when I went directly to the street she had named, there you were, walking into the Butcher Shop. 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. His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOS4xMDguMzMgLSAxMC0wNi0yMDI0IDA0OjIwOjEwIC0gODI4NzAxNDAy
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