“You’re self-taught, aren’t you, Lucy?” She looked around the table, all eyes upon her. In truth, she had been quite glad to lose the argument about remaining while the bullet was dug out of Jack’s side. "Plague on't!" added he: "I never meant to take your babby from you. 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.
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