Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. The picture might easily apply to The Tigress: outwardly disreputable, but richly and comfortably appointed below. A vast indifference settled down upon him. Of this I'm certain, however, she was much too good for him, and was never meant to be a journeyman carpenter's wife, still less what is she now.
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