“Ever yours, “ANNABEL. Why? What is she to you?” “I was there by accident,” Ennison answered. 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. When he beheld Jack he uttered a deep groan.
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