"He never spelt it out. You know what a curious power of eye he has and how he has been used to employ himself in copying things by eye alone. He imitated it, evidently from the direction of a letter, and asked me what it meant."
"Tony," says Mr. Guppy, uncrossing and recrossing his legs again, "should you say that the original was a man's writing or a woman's?"
"A woman's. Fifty to one a lady's--slopes a good deal, and the end of the letter 'n,' long and hasty."
Mr. Guppy has been biting his thumb-nail during this dialogue, generally changing the thumb when he has changed the cross leg. As he is going to do so again, he happens to look at his coat-sleeve. It takes his attention. He stares at it, aghast.

"He never spelt it out. He just copied it, from the address of a letter, and asked me what it meant."
"Tony, should you say that the original was a man's writing or a woman's?"
"Fifty to one a lady's."
Mr. Guppy has been biting his thumb-nail during this dialogue. As he does so, he happens to look at his coat-sleeve. He stares at it, aghast.
