She knew the significance: the red corpuscle was being burnt out by the fires of alcohol. That is not reasonable. 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. Not like my father. She thrashed and screamed as he wrestled her back towards the bed. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever.
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