‘And I suppose I shall be obliged to endure another nonsensical tale about your husband. 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 have only just left Wych Street. Forgive me. This morning his entourage (as he jestingly called it) consisted of the girl, two spinsters (Prudence and Angelina Jedson), prim and doubtful of the world, and the young man who appeared to be considerably the worse for the alcohol he had consumed. ‘I think you’ve gone stark, staring crazy. That Capes should love her seemed beyond the compass of her imagination. She did not try to approach him. The Roof and the Window. ” He would say every time she wore it.
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