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. Altogether, it was the most dreadful noise he had ever heard. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. His attention was focused on Melusine’s transfixed stare and he forgot to say any of the things he had planned to say. ” Courtlaw crossed the room and threw open the door.
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