Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets. It is like a second honeymoon. Kneebone! you would greatly oblige me by surrendering yourself. A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance. Restraining with an effort his intense curiosity, he talked of general subjects only, trying his best to entertain her. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident.
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