The houses overhung in a frightful manner, and looked as if the next gust would precipitate them into the river. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. Before she put on her sun-helmet, she paused before the mirror. "The devil!" ejaculated Jonathan. Manning leaned forward on the table, talking discursively on the probable brilliance of their married life. Only the strong survived. She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown.
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