Never was heard such a bawling as these unfortunate wights kept up. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. He got up brusquely. "I don't believe McClintock would have gone into convulsions at the sight of it. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. ” “Six pounds.
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