An habitual tipping of this melancholy head to one side gave the Persimmon the look of one pondering and deploring the amount of sin there was in the world.

Even at fifty, hopelessly buried among the back streets and pawnshops of life, heaven still opened in the heart of Matilda Tipping at the mention of the name of William Allsopp.

So he went to sleep, resolved, if only for the fun of it, to pay a visit to Aunt Tipping on the morrow.