" "Bah!" returned the woollen-draper. One who—who—tres. But she was not there. A time may come when this little chap will need my aid, and, depend upon it, he shall never want a friend in Owen Wood. 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. ” She surveyed this sentence for some time before going on. They alighted at the restaurant, and stood for a moment in the passage looking into the crowded room. Thanks.
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