ry with them:
Mary's sewing-table, his first gift to her after marriage; their modest
stock of silver; his medical library. But he had been forced to lower
the blind, to hinder impertinent noses flattening themselves against
the window, and thus could scarcely see to put pen to paper; while the
auctioneer's grating voice was a constant source of distraction--not to
mention the rude comments made by the crowd on house and furniture, the
ceaseless trying of the handle of the locked door.

When it came to the point, this tearing up of one's roots was a
murderous business--nothing for a man of his temperament. Mary was a
good deal better able to stand it than he. Violently as she had opposed
the move in the beginning, she was now, dear soul, putting a cheery
face on it. But then Mary belonged to that happy class of mortals who
could set up their Lares and Penates inside any four walls. Whereas he
was a very slave to associations. Did she regret parting with a pretty
table and a comfortable chair, it was soley because of the prettiness
and convenience: as long as she could replace them by other articles of
the same kind, she was content. But to him each familiar object was
bound by a thousand memories. And it was the loss of these which could
never be replaced that cut him to the quick.

Meanwhile this was the kind of thing he had to listen to.

"'Ere now, ladies and gents, we 'ave a very fine pier glass--a very
chaste and tasty pier glass indeed--a red addition to any lady's
drawin'room.--Mrs. Rupp? Do I understand you aright, Mrs. Rupp? Mrs.
Rupp offers twelve bob for this very 'andsome article. Twelve bob ...
going twelve.... Fifteen? Thank you, Mrs. Bromby! Going fifteen ...
going--going--Eighteen? Right you are, my dear!" and so on.

It had a history had that pier glass; its purchase dated from a time in
their lives when they had been forced to turn each shilling in the
palm. Mary had espied it one day in Plaistows' Stores, and had set her
heart on buying it. How she had schemed to scrape the money
together!--saving so much on a new gown, so much on bonnet and mantle.
He remembered, as if it were yesterday, the morning on which she had
burst in, eyes and cheeks aglow, to tell him that she had managed it at
last, and how they had gone off arm in arm to secure the prize. Yes,
for all their poverty, those had been happy days. Little extravagances
such as this, or the trifling gifts they had contrived to make each
other