You’d make a good Devil. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. They heard voices inside but stood for a full thirty seconds looking at each other. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first. "Maybe he realized that he was slipping fast and thought a fine action might give him a hand-hold on life again. It would make my wife very happy. \"Of course it is okay.
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