Don’t favour your father much, either, if it comes to that. That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. Maggot was equipped in a light blue riding-habit, trimmed with silver, a hunting-cap and a flaxen peruke, and, instead of a whip, carried a stout cudgel. ‘You give me an excellent excuse to have in the Madeira,’ said his hostess, reaching for a silver hand bell and setting it pealing.
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