It had been her home for hundreds of years. ” She had a moment of sheer panic at the thing she had done. ‘It is in truth you?’ ‘Of course it is I. 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 went more easily this time. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense. “Lucy Albert, sir.
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