Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. “I hope that it has not done any harm. You never saw him before yesterday. ’ Hilary’s gaze was raking the room. 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. The stranger concluded he could not be far from his destination, and a turn in the road showed him the house.
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