This fall saved him, for the horsemen passed over him. 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. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live. I suppose I believe in God. "Yes?" "And that when they give their word, they never break it. 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. What isn’t a day-dream is this: that you and I are going to put an end to flummery—and go!” “Go!” said Ann Veronica, clenching her hands. The bridge was open. "Agreed," responded the Master.
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