Irish blood and romance will always be mysteriously intertwined.
Haberdasher did not fit in anywhere with Kitty's projects; it was
off-key, a jarring note. Whoever heard of a haberdasher's clerk
reading Morte d'Arthur and writing sonnets? She was reasonably
certain that while Thomas had jotted it down in scornful
self-flagellation, it occupied a place somewhere in his past.
"They turne out ther trashe
And shew ther haberdashe,
Ther pylde pedlarye."
There's no romance in collars and cuffs and ties and suspenders.