She showered after she heard the door shut and the cars pull out of the driveway. “Look here, Ann Veronica,” he began. 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. You take them. He looked at her guiltily.
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