She sensed a pelvic exam coming on. 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. Horrible doubts assailed her. Sheppard, which she gratefully declined. Her eye met Miss Stanley’s understandingly, and she was if anything a trifle more affectionate in her greeting to Ann Veronica. A slow horror was dawning in his fixed eyes. She tried to think what she should do in this eventuality or that. " "That's better.
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