"He knows he had to take it. 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. "Come along, my sly shaver. “Never mind, old chap,” he declared. You sing better than Annabel ever did, you have even a better style.
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