He was ruffled, and his ears were red, no doubt from some adjacent controversy. 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. ‘Monstrously unfair of you, Hilary. "I should call it putting him out of the way. “It’s a nice holiday. I do not choose the vicomte, for that would be foolish. They did not have to wait long. ‘I feared as much.
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