The other was to go into business—into a photographer’s reception-room, for example, or a costumer’s or hat-shop. 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. “I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. ” Their agreement so far seemed remarkable, and yet as a home-coming the thing was a little lacking in warmth. A woman isn’t much freer—in reality. You say I know nothing. Apparently he had projected beyond his table some hypnotic thought, for it had held him all through the dining hour.
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