"No!" in wonderment, several times.
Her hair was cut like a boy's. She was in common garments, with a close-shaped skull-cap and a black straw bonnet on her head; not gloved, of ill complexion, and with deep dark lines slanting down from the corners of her eyes. Yet the inspection convinced him that he beheld Dahlia, his remembering the niece. He was amazed; but speedily priceless trust in his arms, and the wickedness of the streets, he bade her follow him. She did so with some difficulty, for he ran, and dodged, and treated the world as his enemy, suddenly vanished, and appeared again breathing freely.
"Why, my girl?" he said: "Why, Dahl—Mrs. What's-your-name? Why, who'd have known you? Is that"—he got his eyes close to her hair; "is that the ladies' fashion now? 'Cause, if it is, our young street scamps has only got to buy bonnets, and—I say, you don't look the Pomp. Not as you used to, Miss Ma'am, I mean—no, that you don't. Well, what's the news? How's your husband?"
"Uncle," said Dahlia; "will you, please, let me speak to you somewhere?"
"Ain't we standing together?"
"Oh! pray, out of the crowd!"
"Come home with me, if my lodgings ain't too poor for you," said Anthony.
"Uncle, I can't. I have been unwell. I cannot walk far. Will you take me to some quiet place?"
"Will you treat me to a cab?" Anthony sneered vehemently.
"I have left off riding, uncle."