You can give up thinking and leave all the brain work to her. "Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. I’m making a mess of my life— unless you come in and take it. A pity you did not think to tell me that part of the tale at the outset. "It is too late. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe.
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