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’ ‘The what, miss?’ asked Kimble, frowning. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. It loves to sit on your knee. . She heard them diving after her, and noted their starting eyes as they spied the opened panel. 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. It gave him plenty of time to obsess over his random crushes, which worried her. But men are so careless, there's no trusting anything to them! However, I must try to brazen it out. Sheppard's ward, Sir.
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