. A white man takes his life in his hands. 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. There, after protestations of friendliness and helpfulness that were almost ardent, he mounted a little clumsily and rode off at an amiable pace, looking his best, making a leg with his riding gaiters, smiling and saluting, while Ann Veronica turned northward and so came to Micklechesil. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. “You have the temperament,” he said. ‘You are a born rebel, ma’am, and I can see now where she gets it from. You would steal from me then the only man I ever cared a snap of the fingers about. It will give me great pleasure to settle an annuity for a moderate amount upon you on certain conditions.
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