"Come with me, my love, come—come," cried his mother, seizing his hand, and endeavouring to force him away. The proposal is so far from being exorbitant, that it should be trebled if I had not a fellow-feeling in the cause. She did not understand the note of hostility to men that ran through it all, the bitter vindictiveness that lit Miss Miniver’s cheeks and eyes, the sense of some at last insupportable wrong slowly accumulated. 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’m not so sure.
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