His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. Once he chuckled aloud. "He who stands on the verge of the grave, as I do, should never be unprepared. Ann Veronica looked down at her fingers on the claret-colored table-cloth. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. 4. 87 “They’re amazing. I want my freedom. I can talk with them. I believe that I have heard my sister speak of you.
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