Explore "The Drift of Fate" by Stanley J. Weyman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
On a certain morning in last June I was stooping to fasten a shoelace, having taken advantage for the purpose of the step of a corner house in St. James' Square, when a man passing behind me stopped.
"Well! " said he aloud, after a short pause during which I wondered -- I could not see him -- what he was doing, "the meanness of these rich folk is disgusting! Not a coat of paint for a twelvemonth! I should be ashamed to own a house and leave it like that!"