That day Gerald had brought her to this excessively careful house, where she had felt very much alone and very unlike herself. 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. The very blank, however, affected him more deeply than if it had been left. “And let us have a talk about this—some other time. What sort of a standard of life yours may be I do not know, yet in your heart you know very well that every word you have spoken to me has been a veiled insult, every time you have come into my presence has been an outrage. He was so horny that he could probably make love to a tree. ‘Again?’ Another simple parry. Since she was only seventeen when she had them, she didn’t deal with it very well.
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