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. " "You'd better take care of your mother's son instead," rejoined Blueskin. She liked the animated eagerness of his manner. " "No; I'm quite sure she said they're for you," replied Winifred; "but she does want to see father. "Mur—der!" roared Wood, struggling to free himself from his assailant, by whom he was half strangled.
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