As the woollendraper's back was towards him, he did not perceive him, but continued his passionate addresses. But that was all over. He stood up, apparently intending to put an arm about her, but she stepped back from him quickly. It was possible that his first impressions had not been correct. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. Something or other—she did not catch what—he was damned if he could stand. At that a new element poured into her excitement, an element of wild disgust and terror.
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