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. Long before religion and Society heard of Doubt, girls were all for midnight coaches and Gretna Green. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads. As they entered the room beyond, a fierce growl was heard.
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