The babies that the woman—your wife—refused to stop creating. To go to him, to console him! But she stirred not from her hiding place. " The woollen-draper made no answer, but hastily starting up, bolted the door. Here was a terrific figure gnashing his teeth, and howling like a wild beast;—there a lover, with hands clasped together and eyes turned passionately upward. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. And what did she do? Not only did she cut his hand in her rage, but she refused to let him help her, and then she ran away from him. Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society.
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