Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. But her tears had been for Leonardo’s expulsion, and the loss of his companionship. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. "You mentioned Mrs. “You have put all your life in my hands,” he declared. 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. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees.
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