If there is, it’s a mere wrapping—there’s better underneath. 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. ‘Don’t be too sure,’ responded Major Gerald Alderley on a dry note. I do not believe that you will marry David Courtlaw. "As you please, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan, with affected indifference; "but I'm not going to hunt the deer for another to eat the ven'son, depend on 't. But, be like a son to her. Then—then we shall be together. I have been thinking—I will go to my wife again. Another picture slid across her vision.
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