MissPross，shakingherlovinganddejectedhadatherbynomeansaffectionatebrother，saidthroughhertears，`Mr。Cruncher。\'
`Lethimcomeouttoo，\'saidSolomon。`Doeshethinkmeaghost?\'
Apparently，Mr。Cruncherdid，tojudgefromhislooks。Hesaidnotaword，however，andMissPross，exploringthedepthsofherreticulethroughhertearswithgreatdifficulty，paidforherwine。Asshedidso，SolomonturnedtothefollowersoftheGoodRepublicanBrutusofAntiquity，andofferedafewwordsofexplanationintheFrenchlanguage，whichcausedthemalltorelapseintotheirformerplacesandpursuits。
`Now，\'saidSolomon，stoppingatthedarkstreetcorner，`whatdoyouwant?\'
`Howdreadfullyunkindinabrothernothinghaseverturnedmyloveawayfrom!\'criedMissPross，`togivemesuchagreeting，andshowmenoaffection。\'