He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. So you, Jacques, must go and wait for me with the horse. She leaned over and kissed his cheek innocently. 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.
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