He dressed, yawning, and went down to open the shop. He felt tired before the day began. As he carried the shutters in he kept asking himself what good he was doing. The end was inevitable, whether he bothered or not. The clear daylight smote into the place and showed how old, and rough, and splintered was the floor, how shabby the second-hand counter, how hopeless the whole enterprise. He had been dreaming these past six months of a bright little shop, of a happy couple, of a modest but comely profit flowing in. He had suddenly awakened from his dream. The braid that bound his decent black coat—it was a little loose—caught against the catch of the shop-door, and was torn loose. This suddenly turned his wretchedness to wrath. He stood quivering for a moment, then, with a spiteful clutch, tore the braid looser, and went in to Minnie. “Here,” he said, with infinite reproach, “look here! You might look after a chap a bit.” “I didn’t see it was torn,” said Minnie. “You never do,” said Winslow, with gross injustice, “until things are too late.” Minnie looked suddenly at his face. “I’ll sew it now, Sid, if you like.” “Let’s have breakfast first,” said Winslow, “and do things at their proper time.” He was preoccupied at breakfast, and Minnie watched him anxiously. His only remark was to declare his egg a bad one. It wasn’t; it was a little flavoury—being one of those at fifteen a shilling—but quite nice. He pushed it away from him, and then, having eaten a slice of bread and butter, admitted himself in the wrong by resuming the egg. “Sid!” said Minnie, as he stood up to go into the shop again, “you’re not well.” “I’m _well_ enough.” He looked at her as though he hated her. “Then there’s something else the matter. You aren’t angry with me, Sid, are you?—about that braid. _Do_ tell me what’s the matter. You were just like this at tea yesterday, and at supper-time. It wasn’t the braid then.” “And I’m likely to be.” She looked interrogation. “Oh! what _is_ the matter?” she said. It was too good a chance to miss, and he brought the evil news out with dramatic force. “Matter!” he said. “I done my best, and here we are. That’s the matter! If I can’t pay Helter, Skelter, & Grab eighty pounds, this day three weeks—” Pause. “We shall be sold Up! Sold Up! That’s the matter, Min! SOLD UP!” “Oh, Sid!” began Minnie.