"What's the matter?" repeated Mrs. I'll go alone. The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. Had he come to see her to find if she needed something? No. 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. And in some incomprehensible way, Ramage was confused with Capes; she had a grotesque disposition to persuade herself that this was really Capes who surrounded her, as it were, with wings of desire. " "What?" said the doctor, whose thoughts were in something of a turmoil.
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