“He just wants to get laid, you know. Mrs. 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. " "What?" "We'll put those stories back into the trunk and never speak of them to him. It was if the world had blinked out for a moment. " "True," replied the widow, upon whom all the terrible recollections of the day before crowded, "I know it isn't. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone.
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