Lucy tried not to make her cringe noticeable. “You yourself have decided that—apart from the question of Annabel. ” Ennison shrugged his shoulders. 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.
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