"An' 'oo knows, I may find a blanket before long." Again the old woman nodded and beamed, this time with the dead certainty that he _would_ find a blanket before long.
"I call it a 'oliday, 'oppin'," he concluded rapturously.

"A tidy way o' gettin' two or three pounds together an' fixin' up for winter.

The only thing I don't like"-- and here was the rift within the lute--"is paddin' the 'oof down there." It was plain the years were telling on this energetic pair, and while they enjoyed the quick work with the fingers, "paddin' the 'oof," which is walking, was beginning to bear heavily upon them.

And I looked at their grey hairs, and ahead into the future ten years, and wondered how it would be with them.
I noticed another man and his old woman join the line, both of them past fifty.

The woman, because she was a woman, was admitted into the spike; but he was too late, and, separated from his mate, was turned away to tramp the streets all night.
The street on which we stood, from wall to wall, was barely twenty feet wide.