‘What do you say of these troops?’ ‘You see, we’re militia. She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. The woollen-draper was no despicable trencherman in a general way; but his feats with the knife and fork were child's sport compared with those of Mr. Anyhow, they didn’t run about so much. I never made any effort to touch them; so by and by they learned to light fearlessly on my arms and shoulders. She was noisy and hilarious and enthusiastic, and her hair was always abominably done.
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