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. He trembled violently. In all other respects they differed as materially. \"Great!\" I'll drive you. Captain Roding either did not know, or did not remember that she had it. ‘We may have to,’ Gerald answered thoughtfully, staring at the window to one side. But here the resemblance stopped.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjExOC4xNi4yMjkgLSAyMi0wNS0yMDI0IDAxOjE2OjUyIC0gNzg0Mzg2NDYz
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