"But it's your bein' behind the fashions what hurt me.

As well you might be an old thing like me, for any pleasant looks you'll git.

Now, the country--you're like in a coalhole for the matter o' that.

While London, my dear, its pavement and gutter, and omnibus traffic; and if you're not in the fashion, the little wicked boys of the streets themselves 'll let you know it; they've got such eyes for fashions, they have.

And I don't want my Dahly's sister to be laughed at, and called 'coal-scuttle,' as happened to me, my dear, believe it or not--and shoved aside, and said to--'Who are you ?' For she reely is nice-looking.