Maggot was equipped in a light blue riding-habit, trimmed with silver, a hunting-cap and a flaxen peruke, and, instead of a whip, carried a stout cudgel. Her voice was weak and flat. The Tigress went prowling for nut, too. Stanley was throughout enigmatical, with an anxious eye on her husband and Alice. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees.
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