If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. He’s been near it once or twice already. How dreary it all looks. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits. In the circles into which he had been born, the passing on of land was of vital importance. 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. Maggot. ” He faced her doggedly. “Unless you have an appointment, which you haven’t,” he said, “you’ll only waste your time here.
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