“Will he die?” she asked. 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. Here were the passionate lovers! What their past had been he neither cared nor craved to know. But this chap is good wine yet. She did not think for one moment what interpretation he might put upon the word “lover.
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