The black, meantime, began to ply his hammer, and speedily unriveted the chains. "You know what I mean," said the trader, gravely. He was content to talk about himself, though in the back of his clever mind he already suspected that she was not offering any details about her life. 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.
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