‘Unheard of, ain’t it? To tell the truth, I half expected him to leave everything to one of his doxies. Hogarth, and Mr. “Lots of ‘em!” Capes chuckled. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Both had very singular faces; very odd wigs, very much pulled over their brows; and very large cravats, very much raised above their chins. Don’t you think? Tum, tay, tum, tay.
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