He watched the long tresses of the beautiful woman as they fell over her shoulders, and were gathered up by the taper fingers of her handmaiden. The time occupied in dressing and decorating the head seemed to be an age to the imprisoned burglar—who was half stifled in his hiding place.
“I don’t like the way you’ve arranged my hair,” said the lady, viewing herself in the glass. “It appears to be drawn too much back, Kate.”
No. 39.
PEACE ESCAPES THROUGH THE BEDROOM WINDOW.
“Well, marm,” said the girl, “it’s as you wished; but if I might be allowed to have my own way I should dress it as I did on Tuesday last. I am sure you looked lovely then.”
“Hush, you silly girl. Don’t flatter.”
“No, madam, I’ll leave that for the gentlemen to do; or rather, I mean, I’ll let them speak the truth.”
“Well, do it as you did it the other night. You shall have your way.”
The hair had to be undone, and further manipulations had to be gone through, much to Peace’s disgust.