"You were saying—?" "I started to say something; that is all. "Come here," said the petticoated tyrant. He would take her with great force. Any natural fineness would be numbed by drink. In this way (he informed Spurlock) he kept posted on what was going on in the strictly commercial world. 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. Vanity was a vice not just to be deprecated, but effectively strangled at birth.
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