‘The whole town is talking. “You seem to be taking our little joke more seriously than it deserves, Ferringhall,” he remarked. He could remember when women laid away their gowns in lavender—as this girl's mother had. It seemed to her in her restored geniality that she liked Manning extremely. 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. But it was the form of her ruling determination; it was the only form that she ever allowed to see daylight. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. One mistress enough to ruin a man,—two, the devil.
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