“Yes. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. The houses overhung in a frightful manner, and looked as if the next gust would precipitate them into the river. Saws, hammers, planes, axes, augers, adzes, chisels, gimblets, and an endless variety of tools were ranged, like a stand of martial weapons at an armoury, in racks against the walls. It was a grand life. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often.
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