“She can’t. 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. Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them. She barely heard a word that Martin or Brown said, until Martin’s voice chimed. Wasting no time, he crossed straight to the shutters and opened them. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. take it slow. . ” He shook his head.
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