Shaking from head to foot, the man who scattered sciousness has thus fantastically piebsp;itlf together, at length ris, supports his trembling frame upon his arms, and looks around. He is in the mea and clost of small rooms. Through the ragged window-curtain, the light of early day steals in from a mirable court. He lies, dresd, across a large unemly bed, upon a bedstead that has indeed given way under the weight upon it. Lying, also dresd and also across the bed, not longwi, are a aman, a Lascar, and a haggard woman. The two first are in a sleep or stupor; the last is blowing at a kind of pipe, to kindle it. And as she blows, and shading it with her lean hand, trates its red spark of light, it rves in the dim m as a lamp to show him what he es of her.
‘Another?’ says this woman, in a querulous, rattling whisper. ‘Have another?’
He looks about him, with his hand to his forehead.
‘Ye’ve smoked as many as five sinbsp;ye e in at midnight,’ the woman goes on, as she ically plains. ‘Poor me, poor me, my head is so bad. Them two e in after ye. Ah, poor me, the business is slabsp;is slabsp; Few amen about the Docks, and fewer Lascars, and no ships ing in, the say! Here’s another ready for ye, deary. Ye’ll remember like a good soul, won’t ye, that the market pribsp;is dreffle high just now? More nor three shillings and sixpenbsp;for a thimbleful! And ye’ll remember that nobody but me (and Jabsp;aman t’other side the court; but he ’t do it as well as me) has the true cret of mixing it? Ye’ll pay up accly, deary, won’t ye?’
Shaking from head to foot, the man who scattered sciousness has thus fantastically piebsp;itlf together, at length ris, supports his trembling frame upon his arms, and looks around. He is in the mea and clost of small rooms. Through the ragged window-curtain, the light of early day steals in from a mirable court. He lies, dresd, across a large unemly bed, upon a bedstead that has indeed given way under the weight upon it. Lying, also dresd and also across the bed, not longwi, are a aman, a Lascar, and a haggard woman. The two first are in a sleep or stupor; the last is blowing at a kind of pipe, to kindle it. And as she blows, and shading it with her lean hand, trates its red spark of light, it rves in the dim m as a lamp to show him what he es of her.
‘Another?’ says this woman, in a querulous, rattling whisper. ‘Have another?’
He looks about him, with his hand to his forehead.