"Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. “Until a girl can go away as a son does and earn her independent income, she’s still on a string. I had done the most compromising things, and behaved in the most ridiculous way. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. He did not even reply to her for several minutes. Clearing the recess the instant after his companion, he flew to the door of the inner room, and, locking it, took out the key.
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