Mr Bailey squinted at every successive dab, as it
was deposited on a cloth on his left shoulder, and seemed, with a
microscopic eye, to detect some bristles in it; for he murmured more
than once 'Reether redder than I could wish, Poll.' The operation being
concluded, Poll fell back and stared at him again, while Mr Bailey,
wiping his face on the jack-towel, remarked, 'that arter late hours
nothing freshened up a man so much as a easy shave.'
He was in the act of tying his cravat at the glass, without his coat,
and Poll had wiped his razor, ready for the next customer, when Mrs
Gamp, coming downstairs, looked in at the shop-door to give the barber
neighbourly good day. Feeling for her unfortunate situation, in having
conceived a regard for himself which it was not in the nature of things
that he could return, Mr Bailey hastened to soothe her with words of
kindness.
'Hallo!' he said, 'Sairah! I needn't ask you how you've been this long
time, for you're in full bloom. All a-blowin and a-growin; ain't she,
Polly?'
'Why, drat the Bragian boldness of that boy!' cried Mrs Gamp, though
not displeased.
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