There, where the sunlight streaming through the broken panes fell on rotting boards and crumbling walls; there, from their lofty thrones, those rag-clothed Joves have hurled their thunderbolts and shaken, before now, the earth to its foundations. Huddle them up in your lumber-rooms, oh, world! Shut them fast in and turn the key of poverty upon them.
He put a wiry arm about her and lifted her and carried her back to the fireside. "None of that," he growled in her ear. She shrank away as she felt the tensing of his arm and was conscious of the contact of his rag-clothed body. She grew silent, cowering. She heard a sound of something dragging and could not hide her fascinated eyes.