Explore "John Holdsworth, Chief Mate" by W. Clark Russell on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The fowl dished up by the landlady and served upon fine linen, was plump, and juicy and aromatic enough to re-excite the appetite of an alderman after Mansion House dinner; but Holdsworth hardly touched it. The woman looked vexed as she removed it, for the neglect of such a dainty was as good as a spoken disparagement of her skill as a cook. She set a fine cheese, fresh from the farmhouse over the way, upon the table, and butter from the same dairy, firm and sweet-smelling, as butter should be; but these were left untasted.
"I don't know who he may be," she whispered to her husband, outside, "but if he don't make a better dinner than this every day, it's no wonder his body's a shadder."