” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. “I feel justified then,” he said, “in annexing his chair. 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. She shook her head, almost breaking a smile.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDE4LjIyNi4xNy45OSAtIDAzLTA3LTIwMjQgMjA6MDk6MzcgLSAxMTY5ODc1OTIz
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