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I
began
to
wander
about
amongst
the
people
in
the
market
place
,
kept
from
choice
near
the
woman
who
had
potted
plants
for
sale
.
The
heavy
crimson
roses
--
the
leaves
of
which
glowed
blood-like
and
moist
in
the
damp
morning
--
made
me
envious
,
and
tempted
me
sinfully
to
snatch
one
,
and
I
inquired
the
price
of
them
merely
as
an
excuse
to
approach
as
near
to
them
as
possible
.
If
I
had
any
money
over
I
would
buy
one
,
no
matter
how
things
went
;
indeed
,
I
might
well
save
a
little
now
and
then
out
of
my
way
of
living
to
balance
things
again
.
It
was
ten
o'clock
,
and
I
went
up
to
the
newspaper
office
.
"
Scissors
"
is
running
through
a
lot
of
old
papers
.
The
editor
has
not
come
yet
.
On
being
asked
my
business
,
I
delivered
my
weighty
manuscript
,
lead
him
to
suppose
that
it
is
something
of
more
than
uncommon
importance
,
and
impress
upon
his
memory
gravely
that
he
is
to
give
it
into
we
editor
's
own
hands
as
soon
as
he
arrives
.
I
would
myself
call
later
on
in
the
day
for
an
answer
.
"
All
right
,
"
replied
"
Scissors
,
"
and
busied
himself
again
with
his
papers
.
It
seemed
to
me
that
he
treated
the
matter
somewhat
too
coolly
;
but
I
said
nothing
,
only
nodded
rather
carelessly
to
him
,
and
left
.
I
had
now
time
on
hand
!
If
it
would
only
clear
up
!
It
was
perfectly
wretched
weather
,
without
either
wind
or
freshness
.
Ladies
carried
their
umbrellas
,
to
be
on
the
safe
side
,
and
the
woollen
caps
of
the
men
looked
limp
and
depressing
.
I
took
another
turn
across
the
market
and
looked
at
the
vegetables
and
roses
.
I
feel
a
hand
on
my
shoulder
and
turn
round
--
"
Missy
"
bids
me
good
morning
!
"
Good-morning
!
"
I
say
in
return
,
a
little
questioningly
.
I
never
cared
particularly
for
"
Missy
.
"
He
looks
inquisitively
at
the
large
brand-new
parcel
under
my
arm
,
and
asks
:
