’ He quirked an eyebrow. However, it don't signify. You don't want me to spoil the story, do you?" "No. You don't know what you have got; I do. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. ” “Why?” asked Hetty. 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 speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village.
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