On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers. 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. The appearance of the new-comer was extremely prepossessing; and, after his trepidation had a little subsided, Wood began to regard him with some degree of interest. \" Larry got up from his chair and trudged to the refrigerator, pouring himself a glass of milk from the never-ending supply of two percent. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. ‘To read and write, of course, and to sew. I think that WAS decision. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves.
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