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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. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. His aunt, here at McClintock's? It was unbelievable. For five days The Tigress chugged her way across the burnished South China, grumpily, as if she resented this meddling with her destiny. He placed his chin upon the top of her head.
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