It is the vapouring school girl. 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. If you don't conquer this disgraceful propensity in time, you'll soon come to want; and then nothing can save you. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. ‘You usually do,’ he said lightly. Two of these had been her particular intimates at the High School, and had done much to send her mind exploring beyond the limits of the available literature at home.
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