“What a beautiful mare’s nest!” she exclaimed. “I mean to go to that dance! I meant to reason with you, but you won’t reason. In his youth he must have been a remarkably handsome man, for he is still handsome. Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. He had no wish to drag the footman out of his way, once he had got his questions answered. There was enough contra-light to render her ethereal. 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. Anna and her escort exchanged glances. A few steps brought him to the door of the vault in which his mother was immured.
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