If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. 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 am going to break a covenant,” he cried. “I don’t see what else I could have said,” he remarked. The campaign’s a success. . "Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper. I figured it would hurt your feelings if you knew I still talked to him, so I kept my mouth shut. \"Borrowed a pencil.
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