"I've set a trap for him. ‘It must be painful. Then he opened them again suddenly, to find Courtlaw still by his side. “It’s just that he doesn’t seem like your type. But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you. We’ll have some buttered toast. ” Lucy begged. Sir John, who was standing outside, looked past him at the girl still sitting in the shadow. 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.
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