It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. I feel like a fraudulent trustee. The picture might easily apply to The Tigress: outwardly disreputable, but richly and comfortably appointed below. You know what's what. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. 32 The curtains and tapestries had appeared over the windows before Marina had died, growing moldy from the dampness and the oils of lavender, clove, and clary sage soaking them.
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