And I can see her as she trembling, takes it in her hand, puts it down in her bosom, in her stocking perhaps, wraps it up on the inside, wraps her clothes around her, and out the street she goes. It's getting late, she goes down the street to some great, fine perfume company. She goes in, and there's an old hook-nose, grouchy fellow standing behind the counter, counting his money. "Well, it wasn't very good today. Didn't even make rent, bad day." All peeved up, yet as orthodox as he could be in his religion.