One dealer bought and sold all kinds of old and rusty pieces of iron; another, a woman, ill clad and with red eyes, displayed before her a dingy assortment of ragged clothes, which were cheapened by other spare and red-eyed women, who held almost naked children by the hand.

It was cold, and a bitter, keen east wind was searching every corner of London streets.

The salesman Tony was come to deal with had a tolerable selection of old boots, very few of them pairs, some with pretty good upper-leathers, but with no soles worth speaking of; and others thickly cobbled and patched, but good enough to keep the feet dry, without presenting a very creditable appearance.

For the first time in his life Tony found out the perplexity of having a choice to make.

There were none which exactly fitted him; but a good fit is a luxury for richer folks than Tony, and he was not troubled about it.