After you went he got up and took refuge in the preparation-room. “Do you mean to say that you have been here ever since I came?” “I am afraid that I must confess it,” he answered. His voice now had lost its ironies. "Can't you take me with you?" urged the voice; "I'll make it well worth your while. Ludicrously loud sounds streamed from the array of speakers. I bear the marks of some of them about me still," he continued, taking off his wig, and laying bare a bald skull, covered with cicatrices and plates of silver. Put on that new dress—the one that's all white. Quilt, who was an ardent lover of mischief, could not help laughing most heartily at the rueful appearance of these personages. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used.
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