277 “I was beginning to think that I would never see you again, Lucy. “I am sure, Anna,” she said, “I do not see why we should conceal the truth from you. But still she knew they were not right, and at times they became a horrible obsession as of something waiting for her round the corner. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. “And where are YOU going?” he said. She recalled that day of the typhoon and the sloop crashing on the outer reefs. I like such interviews.
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