Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury. ” “But Italy—” “Italy’s for a good girl,” he said, and laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder. 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. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. "So get up, and leave off whimpering.
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