It was his particular hobby, and the leisure he had to apply to it had given him a remarkable appraising eye. "Do you think we are to be disturbed in this way? Make less noise, hussies, or I'll turn you out of the Lodge. ‘Do not beg my pardon. 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. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves.
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