What he was about to say, what terrible castigation he was going to give me, I never knew; for at that moment a man, passing along the sidewalk, stopped and glanced in at us.
He was a large man, poorly dressed, and on his back was a great load of rattan and bamboo stands, chairs, and screens.

He looked at the house as if debating whether or not he should come in and try to sell some of his wares.
"That man's name is Jackson," Ernest said.
"With that strong body of his he should be at work, and not peddling,"* I answered curtly.
* In that day there were many thousands of these poor merchants called PEDLERS.

They carried their whole stock in trade from door to door.

It was a most wasteful expenditure of energy.

Distribution was as confused and irrational as the whole general system of society.
"Notice the sleeve of his left arm," Ernest said gently.
I looked, and saw that the sleeve was empty.
"It was some of the blood from that arm that I heard dripping from your roof-beams," Ernest said with continued gentleness.