He worked away at her shoes.

At last they were quite presentable.
"There you are, you see!" he said.

"Aren't I a great hand at restoring you to respectability?
Stand up! There, you look as irreproachable as Britannia herself!" He cleaned his own boots a little, washed his hands in a puddle, and sang.

They went on into Clifton village.

He was madly in love with her; every movement she made, every crease in her garments, sent a hot flash through him and seemed adorable.
The old lady at whose house they had tea was roused into gaiety by them.
"I could wish you'd had something of a better day," she said, hovering round.
"Nay!" he laughed.