He had been taught the language by a philanthropic young lady, a college graduate, in whose father's family he had lived when he first came to America, and in consequence he spoke like a gentleman and had some considerable difficulty in understanding his companions.
"Eva Loud has had a damned hard time, take it all together," spoke out another man, looking over is bench at the girl on the street.

He was small and thin and wiry, a mass of brown-coated muscles under his loose-hanging gingham shirt.

He plied feverishly his cutting-knife with his lean, hairy hands as he spoke.

He was accounted one of the best and swiftest cutters in Lloyd's, and he worked unceasingly, for he had an invalid wife and four children to support.

Now and then he had to stop to cough, then he worked faster.
"That's so," said the first man.
"Yes, that is so," said the Swede, with a nod of his fair head.
"And now to lose this young one that she set her life by," said the first girl, with an evident point of malice in her tone, and a covert look at the pretty girl at Jim Tenny's side.