Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them. She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. Kneebone was attired in the extremity of the mode. " "Do you call ten guineas easy terms?" cried Wood, with a look of dismay.
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