There were suits in the window, fitted to forms with glovelike accuracy.

He studied these disapprovingly, then entered the shop.
"I want," he told the salesman, "something in a rough, coarse, common-looking suit--something such as a day labourer might wear." The salesman was momentarily puzzled, yet seemed to see light.
"Yes, sir--right this way, sir," and he led his customer back between the lines of tables piled high with garments.

He halted and spanned the chest of the customer with a tape measure.

From halfway down a stack of coats he pulled one of the proper size.
"Here's a snappy thing, sir, fitted in at the back--belted--cuffs on the trousers, neat check----" But the customer waved it aside impatiently.
"No, no! I want something common--coarse cloth, roughly made, no style; it mustn't fit too well." The salesman deliberated sympathetically.
"Ah, I see--masquerade, sir ?" The customer again manifested impatience.
"No, no! A suit such as a day labourer might wear--a factory worker, one of the poorer class." The salesman heightened his manifestation of sympathy.
"Well, sir"-- he deliberated, tapping his brow with a pencil, scanning the long line of garments--"I'm afraid we're not stocked with what you wish.

Best go to a costumer, sir, and rent one for the night perhaps." The customer firmly pushed back a pendent lock of hair and became impressive.
"I tell you it is not for a masquerade or any foolishness of that sort.
I wish a plain, roughly made, common-looking suit of clothes, not too well fitting--the sort of things working people wear, don't you understand ?" "But certainly, sir; I understand perfectly.