But there was nothing in her bearing that a passer-by would have noted, to tell of the excitement that possessed her. The flicker of an eyelash might betray his presence. 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. ‘Imbecile. "In spots you are a thoroughbred; but here's a black mark on your ticket, lad.
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