Before the first month was gone, McClintock admitted that the boy was a find. “I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. Wood, who had recovered her good humour, quitted the room she bestowed a hearty embrace on Thames, and she told him laughingly, that she would "defer all she had to propose to him until to-morrow. “The doctor has asked me to give them my reasons—for shooting myself. 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. Entering the Red Room, he crept through the hole in the wall, descended the chimney, and arrived once more in his old place of captivity.
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