" Jack made no answer, nor did he even cast his eyes upon his follower. Her personal maidservant, the first she had ever had in her life, was joyful for her. 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. Strange, I could never learn her history. Pottiswick’s daughter found her tongue. . . ’ She looked up again and smiled sweetly.
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