No doubt that was due to his helplessness. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. Wood. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. “I have come from a very unfashionable quarter,” she said, “and I do not think that I have been inside a milliner’s shop for a year.
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