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. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. It’s Italian. She tried to be casual. “What I mean is. And with a hideous expression of pain, he fainted. Clotilde pried Fritz from Lucy’s left leg where he was clinging.
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