Since they had tacked the word thief on to him, he had got soaked through with salt water, just like the sugar-loaf.

And besides, to stand there and slave, when he could be his own---- "Hi, you boys! I'll show you how to get the sugar-loaf up, but you will have to eat it yourselves." * * * * * The public-house--the one at Mrs.Selvig's, with the green door and white window frames, farthest down the street--had seen Holman's quiet, subdued, stooping figure come and go for many years.

His grasp on the door-handle was just as precise, his walk up to the brown counter after having laid down his tools, exactly the same, though his face had a little more colour in it.

He had a certain reputation there, which had allowed of his "chalking up" for several years past, and there was a regular proportion of his account, about which his inexorably correct wife had not the faintest idea--"for Holman had his weekly pocket-money." And as usual on Saturday evenings, Silla was walking about outside with the basket, waiting for him.
She was really quite nicely dressed in her cotton gown with a little white handkerchief tied round her neck; but clothes did not seem to set her off.

The slight, overgrown figure seemed to show through everywhere.
She made a quick turn, when she thought she caught a glimpse of Nikolai at the bottom of the street.