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. He motioned the young man to the rear chair, because at that hour the youth appeared to be a quantity close to zero. She caught the fact that it was something more than strong drink that laid you out. ‘Say it. Go on.
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