A rather pessimistic tobacconist, not inclined to believe in a First Cause, until one day a drunken man smashed Salmon and Gluckstein's window down the High Street, whereupon his opinion of Providence went up for several days! Priam enjoyed talking to him, though the tobacconist was utterly impervious to ideas and never gave out ideas.

This morning the tobacconist was at his door.

At the other corner was the sturdy old woman whom Priam had observed from his window.
She sold flowers.
"Fine old woman, that!" said Priam heartily, after he and the tobacconist had agreed upon the fact that it was a glorious morning.
"She used to be at the opposite corner by the station until last May but one, when the police shifted her," said the tobacconist.
"Why did the police shift her ?" asked Priam.
"I don't know as I can tell you," said the tobacconist.

"But I remember her this twelve year." "I only noticed her this morning," said Priam.

"I saw her from my bedroom window, coming down the Werter Road.