"You'll find it chilly where you are living, ma'am, but it isn't damp,
that's one comfort. The bottom of your street is damp, and down here in
a flood anything like what we had fourteen years ago, we are nearly
drowned. If you'll step outside with me I'll show you how high the
water rose." He opened the door, and Mrs. Fairfax thought it courteous
not to refuse. He walked to the back of his cabin bareheaded, although
the morning was cold, and pointed out to her the white paint mark on the
wall. She, dropped her receipted bill in the black mud and stooped to
pick it up. Mr. Cobb plunged after it and wiped it carefully on his
silk pocket-handkerchief. Mrs. Cobb's bay window commanded the whole
length of the coal-yard. In this bay window she always sat and worked
and nodded to the customers, or gossiped with them as they passed. She
turned her back on Mrs. Fairfax both when she entered the yard and when
she left it, but watched her carefully. Mr. Cobb came into dinner, but
his wife bided her time, knowing that, as he took snuff, the
handkerchief would be used.
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