A carpenter's daughter is no fit match for a peer of France. Wood gave the required promise, though he could not help thinking that if either of them had cause to be jealous he was the party. 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 would purchase it at the price of your head," replied Jonathan, knitting his brows.
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