Having made final inspection of the knots of her shoe-laces and the
fastenings of her skirt, Janet turned toward her "perfectly horrid"
oilcoat, which, as usual, had spent the night on the floor. As it
would never come off till she had tortured her fingers on the edges
of its big rusty buttons, she always parted from it on unpleasant
terms, casting it from her; whereupon this masculine garment fell
into the most absurd postures, sprawling about on her bedroom
floor, or even sitting up, drunkenly, in the corner, -which latter
it could easily do, being as stiff as it was yellow. This time it
had caught by one arm on the back of a chair, and it came so near
standing alone that it seemed to be on the point of getting along
without the chair's assistance.
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