Meanwhile, Mr. At least here she was safe. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. 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. ’ ‘Begging your pardon, miss, but I think as how you ought to go back to London,’ Jack ventured. After the first courses however she scarcely noticed him.
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