Why would militia be infesting the place? And he must by now be aware of my interest. 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. I’M shaken. I’m afraid I’m a terribly clumsy fellow.
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