He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. When the woollen-draper was nearly worn out, the Amazon watched her opportunity, and hitting him on the arm, disabled it. ‘Yes, like you,’ she snapped, with a venomous glance, her role evidently forgotten for the moment. But the sheer tenacity of the girl defeated him. If you could see how it gives them souls, women who have taken things for granted, who have given themselves up altogether to pettiness and vanity. “Well,” he said, argumentatively, “it IS.
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