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. " "You need not," replied Jack, in a tone of the deepest compunction. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. "But trifle with mo no longer. She held it by the neck and broke the end of the bottle on the hard dirt. " "Write him," urged Spurlock, finding speech. "He shan't go," cried Edgeworth Bess, holding him by the other hand. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. "All is prepared.
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