“How do you know?” “Well, it isn’t exactly a depressing state, is it?” “YOU don’t know. “Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. —I'll soon find you out. But she could not live in constant association with him without having these gaps filled. Solomon Smith, chapmen, (or what in modern vulgar parlance would be termed bagmen) travelling to procure orders for the house of an eminent cloth manufacturer in Manchester.
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