But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights. Her hair was gathered up behind, in a sort of pad, according to the then prevailing mode; and she wore a muslin cap, and pinners with crow-foot edging. She had just passed into a little antechamber beyond when she suddenly heard a faint knocking. That she was provoked by his interference was obvious.
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