Mr. Thomas Marvel
boots he had come across for a long time, but too large for him; whereas the ones he had were, in dry weather, a very comfortable fit, but too thin-soled for damp. Mr. Thomas Marvel hated roomy shoes, but then he hated damp. He had never properly thought out which he hated most, and it was a pleasant day, and there was nothing better to do. So he put the four shoes in a graceful group on the turf and looked at them. And seeing them there among the grass and springing agrimony, it suddenly occurred to him that both pairs were exceedingly ugly to see. He was not at all startled by a voice behind him.
"They 're boots, anyhow," said the voice.
"They are—charity boots," said Mr. Thomas Marvel, with his head on one side regarding them distastefully; "and which is the ugliest pair in the whole blessed universe, I 'm darned if I know! "
"H 'm," said the voice.
"I 've worn worse,—in fact, I 've worn none. But none so owdacious ugly,—if you 'll allow the expression. I 've been cadging boots—in particular—for days. Because I was sick of
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