You'll find me at supper. 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. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. Or, if you were about to embark upon a nautical career, here was all the information required. ‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary angrily. “It was the night you left Paris. 'He's a good fellow, and 'twill all end well'.
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