‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. ‘Hollow. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience. Oh dear!—how sorry I am I ever left Wych Street. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. " "Aw light!" The two old friends held each other off at arms' length for inspection; this proving satisfactory, they began to prod and pummel one another affectionately.
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