I said to myself, 'She's the finest old woman I ever saw in my life!'" "Did you now!" murmured the tobacconist.

"She's rare and dirty." "I like her to be dirty," said Priam stoutly.

"She ought to be dirty.
She wouldn't be the same if she were clean." "I don't hold with dirt," said the tobacconist calmly.

"She'd be better if she had a bath of a Saturday night like other folks." "Well," said Priam, "I want an ounce of the usual." "Thank _you_, sir," said the tobacconist, putting down three-halfpence change out of sixpence as Priam thanked him for the packet.
Nothing whatever in such a dialogue! Yet Priam left the shop with a distinct feeling that life was good.

And he plunged into High Street, lost himself in crowds of perambulators and nice womanly women who were bustling honestly about in search of food or raiment.