He had not remembered her as looking so small. I have written, called—of what avail is anything—against that look. You give her a daub here and there where the rust shows. ‘And I wouldn’t be no sort of a man if I’d heard what I heard, and gone off and left you. "I should think so," responded the lethargic turnkey, with a yawn. She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be his restrained and dignified friend.
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