“I don’t think she quite sees the harm of those people or the sort of life to which they would draw her,” she said. 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. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared.
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