"Do not endanger yourself on my account," rejoined his mother. “Marriage certificates don’t tell lies, at any rate,” he said. But, if you have come to surrender yourself to justice, it is well. 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. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. “Pellissier,” she repeated thoughtfully. "You must have made some exertion to keep your present appointment.
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