‘You little fool! I’m a trained soldier with ten years experience at my back. 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. He was as hard as a rock. Partly, from your confessor; partly, from other sources. " "But you can imagine it. I'll engage to get the job done by six. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt.
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