"I mean what I say," replied Jonathan. Beneath the serene unconcern of Ann Veronica’s face was a boiling tumult. “It’s all right,” he said, reassuringly to the inquirer without. 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. “Now you look happy.
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