"
He turned away, rubbing his hand across his forehead. He wished so
much that this woman would leave him by himself.
"Ah, but, sir," cried the girl, desperately, and touching his coat,
"you who are so fortunate, and so rich, and of the great world, you
cannot feel what this is to me. To have my own little shop and to be
free, and not to slave, and sew, and sew until my back and fingers
burn with the pain. Speak to him, sir; ah, speak to him! It is so easy
a thing to do, and he will listen to you."
The Goodwood Plunger turned again abruptly. "Where is he?" he said.
"Point him out to me."
The woman ran ahead, with a murmur of gratitude, to the open door and
pointed to where her husband was standing leaning over and placing
some money on one of the tables. He was a handsome young Frenchman, as
_bourgeois_ as his wife, and now terribly alive and excited. In the
self-contained air of the place and in contrast with the silence of
the great hall he seemed even more conspicuously out of place. The
Plunger touched him on the arm, and the Frenchman shoved the hand off
impatiently and without looking around. The Plunger touched him again
and forced him to turn toward him.
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