He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery. His room was last at the end of one winding corner. Presently he felt motion. 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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