He kissed her cheek. Mrs. "Your servant, Sir Rowland," said the stranger, ducking his head, as he advanced. On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers. A long shrill cat-call in the gallery seemed to be the signal. 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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