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. “What has he to do with it?” “He was your sister’s master—her friend. ” “Please get off at the next exit. I forget. He could not promise that she would ever appear again in that house. He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand. What the devil is the matter, Dunster?” “I beg your pardon, sir,” the man answered, “there is a lady here to see you. Sir John felt hot and furious. ’ ‘Also madame his wife—’ Charvill’s gorge rose.
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