’ ‘Oh, you are, are you?’ said the nun, evidently not mollified, but she was forestalled. ‘Let go!’ ‘Do you take me for a fool?’ Gerald demanded. 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. ’ ‘Then you shall no longer do so. ” “In Paris, I think,” Ennison answered.
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