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. "I likes to hear vot you says. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly. Bah! She does not know me very well, and you—not at all. It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. You would steal from me then the only man I ever cared a snap of the fingers about. But all these hours, trying to teach the child wariness toward life, and the moment his back was turned, this! He was, perhaps, still dazed by the inner revelation—his own interest in Ruth. "Humph!" exclaimed Jonathan, doubtfully. “It’s about forty pounds. She was shocked. He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription.
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