The woman was little if anything over four feet in height. She was
crooked, had a high shoulder, and walked like a crab, one leg being
shorter than the other. Her companion walked quite straight, with a
certain appearance of dignity which he neither assumed nor could
have avoided, and which gave his gait the air of a march. He was not
an inch taller than the woman, had broad, square shoulders,
pigeon-breast, and invisible neck. He was twice her age, and they
seemed father and daughter. They heard his breathing, loud with
asthma, as they went by.
"Poor things!" said Helen, with cold kindness.
"It is shameful!" said George, in a tone of righteous anger. "Such
creatures have no right to existence. The horrid manakin!"
"But, George!" said Helen, in expostulation, "the poor wretch can't
help his deformity."
"No; but what right had he to marry and perpetuate such odious
misery!"
"You are too hasty: the young woman is his niece."
"She ought to have been strangled the moment she was born--for the
sake of humanity. Monsters ought not to live."
"Unfortunately they have all got mothers," said Helen; and something
in her face made him fear he had gone too far.
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