“Why not? They tell me that London is impossible till after ten, and I want my first impressions to be favourable. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. ‘At least I couldn’t say for sure. Lady Ferringhall listened, and her cheeks grew pale. He turned round toward her and found her looking at him and standing very still. Take your half loaf with the others.
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