But, after all, it will be different. Pole coolies came joggling along with bobbing blocks of jade—white jade, splashed and veined with translucent emerald green. I'll try to think better of him in future. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. I offered myself as a clerk, as a milliner, as a shop girl. “Look here! Aren’t you going a little too far? This—this is degradation—making a fuss with sleeves.
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