Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets. ‘Your niece, ma’am. His blood would be sweet with it. We are in love. Unless he can arise from the bottom of the Thames, where he and his abhorred father lie buried, you will never behold him again in this world.
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