Such ambitions as he had were stereotyped and material. " "And all the time you loved her?"—appalled. "I'll tell you why," he said. 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. ” “Shirts?” “Shirts at one—and—something a dozen. Why, he can scarcely be twenty. He made his speech a little elaborately. ‘Oh, Marthe,’ she groaned, using in her accustomed way the French version of her nurse’s name, ‘that pig is going to monsieur le baron.
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