‘Then he went stark staring crazy, if you ask me. Operations then commenced. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. Just as I might have killed another, if he had come out. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDUyLjE0Ljk4LjI0OSAtIDAyLTA2LTIwMjQgMjE6Mzc6NDQgLSAxODk3NTE4NDQ0
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