" "Well, it's mighty fine of you to break your journey in this fashion—for someone you don't know, a passer-by. "I disown you. " Mrs. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. 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. " "Never!" replied the woollen-draper; "and if that treacherous rascal, by your side, doesn't make himself scarce quickly, I'll send a bullet through his brain.
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