I loitered in the shop as you chatted with the butcher’s girl. When she looked into their eyes, her despair put her beyond tears. ” “Is it necessary,” he said, “for me to tell you——” “Stop, please,” she said firmly. Plain, wide-mouthed, freckled, and ugly, she was an instantly jealous creature, her saving grace that she took no pains to mask her extreme dislike 47 of petite, pretty girls. We WERE thieves. Through all he said ran one quality that pleased her—the quality of a man who feels that things can be done, that one need not wait for the world to push one before one moved.
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