‘I have only borrowed it. There's not his peer among the peerage. Very soon she would be able to forget it. 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. Wood uttered something like an imprecation. You come to England, and hide in a secret convent in London. Bach?” They unanimously said yes.
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