"
"I'll come, I tell you."
"I'll post you for a thief on every brick in the Exchange."
"Have mercy, Skinner. Have pity on the wretched man whose bread you have
eaten. I tell you I'll come."
"Well, mind you do, then, cash and all," said Skinner sulkily, but not
quite proof against the reminiscences those humble words awakened.
Each walked backwards a good dozen steps, and then they took different
roads, Skinner taking good care not to be tracked home. He went up the
high stairs to the hole in the roof he occupied, and lighted a rushlight.
He had half a mind to kindle a fire, he felt so chilly; but he had
blocked up the vent, partly to keep out the cold, partly to shun the
temptation of burning fuel. However, he stopped the keyhole with paper,
and also the sides of the window, till he had shut the wintry air all
out. Still, what with the cold and what with the reaction after so great
an excitement, his feeble body began to shiver desperately. He thought at
last he would light a foot-warmer he had just purchased for old iron at a
broker's; _that_ would only spend a halfpenneyworth of charcoal.
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