“Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. It is useless to contend with him, even with right on your side. 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. ‘But you know. “Don’t be too sure of that,” she answered enigmatically. He brought home a few waverers to talk to them where they had no chance of getting away. “Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew.
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