His favorite newspaper was the Times, which he began at breakfast in the morning often with manifest irritation, and carried off to finish in the train, leaving no other paper at home. “The fool I have been!” he cried; and now speech was coming to him. The Night-Cellar XVIII. "Be still!" "Oh, come along! I've just got to have my muck bath. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. "I'm sorry for old Newgate that another jail should have it.
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