She shattered the edifice he was building up of himself as a devoted lover, waiting only his chance to win her from a hopeless and consuming passion. ‘So yours is the rattling tongue, is it, young madam?’ ‘I should say so. 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. Anybody in pain had only to call to him. " "Well, imagination beats me!" "It's something Ruth saw.
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