JULIA BRIDE
the next moment, while she gave a slow and sad head-shake, to a greater strangeness yet. "He isn't a gentleman."
"Ah, lordy, lordy!" Mr. Pitman again sighed. He struggled out of it but only into the vague. "Oh then, if he's a pig—!"
"You see there are only a few gentlemen—not enough to go round—and that makes them count so!" It had thrust the girl her self, for that matter, into depths; but whether most of memory or of roused purpose he had no time to judge—aware as he suddenly was of a shadow (since he mightn't perhaps too quickly call it a light) across the heaving surface of their question. It fell upon Julia's face, fell with the sound of the voice he so well knew, but which could only be odd to her for all it immediately assumed.
"There are indeed very few—and one mustn't try them too much!" Mrs. Drack, who had supervened while they talked, stood, in monstrous magnitude—at least to Julia's reimpressed eyes—between them: she was the lady our young woman had descried
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