"Let the gentleman take his own course," said Jonathan, mildly. ’ ‘What, for not wanting to marry you?’ ‘Imbecile. “Go to the far corner,” he said, “and sing the last verse of Les Petites. Are you all here?” “Five boxes full,” she answered. “Do you know,” she confessed, “I never thought of that?” He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could possibly be in earnest. 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. She was with these movements—akin to them, she felt it at times intensely—and yet something eluded her.
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