iduality: here was the linking up of the boy who as Puzzlehead Sabre would wrinkle up his nut and say, "Well, I can't quite see that, sir," with the man in whom the same habit

ne and behind the speech, that interested him, and often, by the intensity of its perception, shook him. And precisely as beauty touched i

d sordid dwelling houses. At open windows high up sat solitary women, at others solitary, shirt-sleeved men; behind closed windows were the faces of children. All staring,-women and men and children, impassively prisoned, impassively staring. Each house door presented,

d those sinister doors: the dark and malodorous stairways, the dark and malodorous rooms, their prisoned occupants opening their prisons and staring at him,-those

went. I think it's a very good thing to know for oneself just how that side of life lives. Those awful peo

of their lives. I can't say I'm glad I went, though. You've no

ressed! How ever can it

people come into your service-the airs they give themselves and the way they dema

es you think

do

k was entirely different fr